


Not Your Lady

by Ricketyrogue



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Best Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, JUST KISS ALREADY, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Past Violence, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Some angst eventually so watch out for that, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the slowest burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 210,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricketyrogue/pseuds/Ricketyrogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Cullen and Trevelyan hadn't gotten along at first? He thinks she's spoiled, and she thinks he's a prat. </p><p>Follows the the canon of DAI, except for the romantic stuff. This is a friendmance version of their story, and is kinda the slowest of all slow burns.</p><p>Updating has slowed a little as I move into the last few chapters of this story. I'm doing a read through to make sure all the plot points are cleared up, and I'm taking the opportunity to correct a few typos and mistakes in the earlier chapters. </p><p>If there's anything you'd like to see addressed, either in the final chapters or a later drabble, leave it as a comment and I'll do my best to get to it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Commander, this just came over from the Crossing and Sister Leliana needs you to approve it as soon as possible.”

“Of course solider, I’ll take care of it.” Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Forces of the Inquisition, and former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall took the offered pages before waving the messenger out of his tent. As he settled back at the mound of paper that was once a desk, he wondered idly if it was actually possible to be smothered to death under the weight of bureaucracy. Josephine was pestering him to delegate some of it to his lieutenants, but he felt strongly that he needed to take personal responsibility for everything that crossed his desk. This had worked very well for the first few hours he’d held this position, but it had rapidly spun out of control. Although the fledgling Inquisition was growing steadily, the work seemed to be growing exponentially, and Cullen had quite given up on the thought of ever finishing it all.

Cullen ignored the towers of paper and tried to concentrate on the single missive he been handed. Leliana wrote everything in the same tiny handwriting she used for raven messages – lines overlapping and no space between words. Worst of all, even when she used the proper requisition forms, she insisted on writing everything in a code shared among the highest levels of the Inquisition.

This was clearly a request for his forces to build … horses?

 _That cannot possibly be the case_ , thought Cullen grouchily as he reached for his quill. He started trying to decipher the message, decoding each word individually as he identified it.

**…Received…request…from…Herald…**

Cullen groaned and tilted his head back, rubbing at his eyes. _Maker’s breath, of course it’s from the bloody Herald. All that woman does is stir up work for the rest of us to do._

_It’s just… she comes to these meetings and stands there solemnly until we force her to make a decision. She’s a mage, and a noblewoman to boot. Everything is so formal with her, and she’s exactly the picture of a spoiled, silly useless girl – right up until she runs off to the Hinterlands and starts negotiating with all the rabble of behalf of the entire Inquisition. She’s recruiting smugglers and apostates, but she still hasn’t managed to get horses from Master Dennett. She spent three days fighting wolves for pity’s sake! I don’t know what we’re going to do when things really get difficult – I don’t think she has it in her to weigh the tough choices and stand by her decisions._

He realized this was quite a negative way to view a colleague, and tried to think of something more positive. _She seems well educated – at least the enchanters from Ostwick spoke very highly of her research. Maybe Josie can leverage that Trevelyan name into some favors. I like that she's tall, and if nothing else, I can dangle her in front of my troops so they fight harder to try to impress her. She’s fairly pretty, and she does have a really nice -_

“Commander? Do you have a moment?”

Cullen sat bolt upright from where he had lost himself in thought then bowed immediately when he realized the Herald herself was waiting at the entrance to the tent.

_Maker’s Breath! Did I miss a meeting? Should I have known she was coming? Does she know what I was thinking?_

Cullen tried to banish the ungentlemanly thoughts he'd been having about the Herald, but it was a little difficult with her standing right there. “My lady, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have kept you waiting.”

The Herald lifted her chin. “Honestly Commander, I should apologize to you for not giving you notice I was going to stop by. But I would like to talk for a moment if you’ve one to spare?’

Cullen tried not to let any of his thoughts show on his face. “Of course my lady, I just need to finish-” he waved vaguely at the requisition on his desk. “One of Leliana’s coded missives, you understand.”

The Herald stepped forward and picked up the note. “May I?” At his assent, she examined it briefly, then laid it back on the desk.

“I’ve no idea why she felt the need to encode this. It is a request for some of your soldiers with building expertise to go to the Hinterlands to erect watchtowers, and I believe Leliana just wants you to authorize the use of your men for a week or so.”

“Thank you my lady. I would have been all afternoon working on that.” Cullen quickly scribbled his approval, and left it for his lieutenant to implement. _Dammit, now my men have to take time from training to build watchtowers in the Hinterlands? Don’t we have enough to do with getting Haven defensible?_

Some flicker of thought must have shown on his face but the  Herald only inclined her head graciously and opened the tent flap. “Now then, I have an errand down at the lake, and thought perhaps you would accompany me?”

*******

They walked towards the lake down a trail that was rapidly becoming a proper pathway. Cullen noticed several spots that needed attention, and made a mental note to detail some soldiers to shore up the sides of the path in the upcoming days. _Another thing to add to the never-ending list that haunts my waking hours._  

When they reached the lake, the Herald didn’t pause, simply turning to the right and beginning to pick her way along the bank using her staff as a walking stick. The silence stretched around them, and he sensed that she was trying to find the words to start a conversation. Mentally cursing his own awkwardness with social niceties, he dove in.

“My lady, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for any offense I may have caused you upon our first meeting. I know you were in Ostwick Circle, and you may be uncomfortable with having even a former Templar nearby. I should have reached out to you sooner, but with one thing and another....”

As Cullen trailed off uncertainly, the Herald stopped walking and turned to him with a blankly polite look. “Commander, I could ask you the same question, correct? With your background, it would not be at all unexpected for you to be uncomfortable with having a mage as the Inquisition's… mascot?” Her voice lilted up on the last word, as her forehead scrunched up, her former politeness utterly vanishing. “Oh piss on it. There go my manners.”

Cullen nearly laughed at her response, but managed to suppress it to only a brief smirk. Was it possible that the Herald of Andraste wasn’t a complete tightass?

“You are quite a bit more than a mascot, Herald, and you well know that. And yes, the fact that you’re a mage did greatly concern me when we thought you had caused the explosion. Now that we have a fuller picture, I have no trouble trusting that the Maker sent you to us for a reason.”

 _That’s almost true_. _It almost doesn’t bother me that a Mage is the only hope of righting the world, and I can almost believe that she is sent by Andraste. She just seems so … unfit. She’s hardly a warrior, and I know better than anyone how mages from the Circle can break under pressure._

“So no, to answer your question. It doesn't bother me. Although, um, you didn’t answer my question. Does it bother you that I was a Templar?”

“No, Serrah, not at all. That’s actually why I asked you to accompany me today. You still have your Templar abilities, correct?”

Cullen stammered for a moment, thrown by the abrupt question. _Does she know that I stopped taking lyrium? I haven’t even started withdrawals yet, so why would she ask…. Maybe she’s just being polite?_ “Yes, my lady, I do, I don’t know what that has to do with....”

The Herald raised an eyebrow in his direction. “Commander, do stop dithering and allow me to explain. It has come to my attention that this lake is being used a shortcut from the road to Haven. However, we’ve had a few warm days and I am concerned about the integrity of the ice since Josie said a supply train is due to come in tomorrow.  I can try to freeze it safe for travel but… I will only do so if you agree to Caution me in case something should go… awry.” She glanced at the mark on her left hand as she said this, and Cullen understood where her trepidation rose from.

_That is…  surprisingly sensible. I wouldn’t have thought her senior enough in the Circle to have used Cautions before, although they did say she was good at research. It really speaks well of her that she would think to compensate for the mark on her hand, too. This is a big spell though – will she be able to do it?_

“Has the mark been interfering with your magic much?” he asked gently, not wanting to accuse her of any wrongdoing.

She flicked her eyes up at him, and he got the sense she was weighing her words carefully. “Not as such, no. However, this is a very large lake, and I haven’t done a casting this large since the conclave. I would rather over prepare then accidentally injure someone.” She cleared her throat, before speaking in a much more solemn tone. “Templar of my Circle, will you defend me from harm, and defend others harm from me?”

Nodding his approval, he stripped off his gloves and answered just as solemnly. “Mage of my Circle, I will so defend thee.”

She moved to the lakeshore, and Cullen followed in step, taking position behind her as she raised her staff over her head. It had been quite some time since he had performed this particular ritual, but he could easily remember the voice of his Templar mentor teaching him about Cautionary Purges.

_This is a good thing lad. This means that you have a good one on your hands, so it’s your job to have their back. Keep your legs braced one step behind the mage. Hands out, either side of their head, don’t touch them. Just focus, and stay alert. They’re depending on you. Don’t be complacent and be ready to lay down a Purge if anything feels wrong. Focus, boy, they haven’t done anything evil yet, and don’t assume that they will, but stay ready._

He listened to her breathe deeply and deliberately for a few minutes, and did his best to match his breathing to hers. As she slowly began to lower her staff, Cullen’s sight narrowed down to the back of her head, focusing on the dark brown braids that wrapped around her head like a coronet. He was alert to any mana spikes that might indicate her spell losing control, and though he could feel the _wrongness_ of the breach high above them, she seemed to pulse with the low steady thrum of well-directed magic.

It felt like they were there for hours, but when she finally released the spell with a final sigh, the sun had barely moved. She stood very still for a moment before raising her staff again. Whipping it around quickly, she sent a very thin stream of fire across the portion of the lake closest to the dock.

Cullen had to lunge back quickly to avoid getting thwacked in the head by her staff, then immediately leapt forward again as the Herald pitched backwards. He caught her under the arms, and propped her back upright.

It wasn’t a full faint, and she stirred almost immediately. Cullen recognized the probable signs of mana draining, and half walked/ half carried her over to a small rocky outcropping. He sat her down as gently as possible, and then knelt in front of her.

“My Lady Herald, can you look at me?” she opened her eyes blearily, but quickly focused on his face. “Do you know who I am?”

She blinked a few times, looking more alert with every blink. “Commander Cullen Rutherford of Honnleath.”

“Good enough, my lady.” She wasn’t addled at all, just magically exhausted. This wasn’t uncommon – a Cautionary Purging was usually requested before large, experimental magics in case spells behaved unexpectedly and needed to be shut down instantly. However, large experimental magics often took all the magic at the disposal of the mage casting them. Cullen had received training on this as well, and he swallowed heavily before he asked his next question. “Do you have any lyrium potions?”

Her hand went to her belt but came away empty. “No. I don’t carry them in Haven and I didn’t think to get one earlier. I’ll be fine if I can just sit for a minute. Would you go see if it worked?”

_What am I, her errand boy?_

As it turned out, the spell had worked beautifully. The lake was now coated in several feet of solid ice, making it safe to cross again. The only anomaly was the area that she had coated with fire, which had quickly refrozen into a surface that was mirror bright and smooth. Cullen studied it curiously, not sure why she’d gone out of her way to treat this section differently. It reminded him of something – maybe from his childhood. He tilted his head and thought back to a memory of his older sister whirling him around as they spun on their….

_Andraste’s pointed teeth! That silly bint wants to go ice skating!_

The Herald of Andraste had made herself a place to ice skate. In the middle of a war. And nearly passed out from the strain of it.

 _Of all the silly childish things she could have done!_ Cullen angrily crossed his arms and stared daggers at the ice. _She exhausted herself for this?_ What a waste of energy. As he stomped back towards where he had left her, he didn’t notice the solidity of the ice under his feet. _She needs to be more careful of how she allocates herself. Stupid, spoiled, noblewoman, doesn't she know what the real world is like?_

Anger rising, he marched back to where he had left the Herald, determined to explain a few things about priorities in the Inquisition.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alinora Trevelyan was no stranger to the way she was feeling. Over the last few years in the Circle, her experiments had gotten more and more involved, and she knew the limits of her magic quite well. She was careful to never entirely burn out her mana, always making sure that there was a small flicker left deep inside after every casting. She had learned long ago how to use meditation to quickly refill her reserves, and luckily, she had mostly recovered when the shouting started.

From her perch on the rock, Ali could see the Commander storming up from the beach. His gentle demeanor had disappeared, and he was clearly angry about something.

Since the Conclave, Ali had met all manner of people, and had managed to take steps towards befriending them all. She’d read Varric’s _Tales of the Champion_ just to talk with him about it, had debated the Fade with Solas, and surprised Bull with her impressive knowledge of profanity. She’d chatted with Leliana about upcoming shoe fashions, made hot chocolate for Josephine and once helped Cassandra braid a pesky section of her hair.

Of all of them, only Cullen remained elusive and aloof. The seriousness of the general situation compelled her to be on her best behavior, and she’d tried to be as thoughtful as possible when asked for her opinion. Otherwise, she hadn’t wanted to interfere when the rest of them were making decisions - who was she really when not closing rifts? Every time she spoke he stared at her like she had a second head, and he inevitably cut off any casual conversation she initiated.

Today had seemed like a godsend - she really hadn’t wanted to try such a large casting without a failsafe, and hey-presto, there was a Templar waiting right there in camp. She had been sure that her magic was the problem, and thought that asking him to help would clear the air, and for a moment, it seemed to have worked.

 _Apparently not for very long though._ Alinora gave up on finishing her meditation, and politely tried to listen to the stern faced ex-Templar. _I haven’t been lectured like this since I was nine years old and broke Papa’s inkwell on the cat._

“...utter waste of time and energy. Why you think we can spend resources on your leisure activities is beyond me! If you want to gallivant on the ice you should have stayed in Ostwick! You’ve done nothing but act like a spoiled little princess ever since you arrived.”

 _Spoiled, is it? I think I’ve had about enough of this._ Ali could feel her blood starting to simmer, and she really wanted to light the Commander’s boots on fire. Just as she was about to do something rash, she heard her oldest sister's voice in her head. _Don’t sink to his level girl! Keep your manners up and get out of here!_

Ali got her feet under her and stood with all the grace her wobbly legs would allow. She gathered the edges of her battered coat, and gave as fine a curtsey as her noble Mother could have wished. “Templar, I thank you for the Caution, and for your kind words. I bid you good day, serrah.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, but Ali didn’t want to hear it. She moved back towards the path as quickly as she could, grateful for the long hours she’d spent trotting across the Hinterlands. She was fairly certain he wouldn’t follow her - his dignity wouldn’t allow him to go chasing up a hill in full plate armor - but she didn’t want to risk getting caught.

*****

Cullen, in fact, did not chase after her. After the Herald made her escape, he stood in shock for a moment, but quickly recovered and started stomping back towards his tent, trying to ignore what had happened. _She hadn’t seemed that angry._ Stomp. _He hadn’t said anything unwarranted._ Stomp. _Someone had to say something._ Stomp.

It took awhile, but a few hours later Cullen had managed to put most of his guilt behind him. He was trying to take the men through their practice drills, and although the troops had started well, they were going downhill - fast.

“Back to your marks! The strike pattern is high low low!” Cullen was bellowing in his best parade voice, but their attention was clearly elsewhere. He winced when a particularly promising recruit took a blow to his shoulder, the man having clearly been anticipating another low strike.

Cullen was so wrapped up in his troops that he didn’t notice The Iron Bull coming up behind him until the Qunari’s shadow covered him. “Ah, Bull, what can I do for you?” Cullen quite liked the mercenary leader, but was a little ashamed that he was seeing the Inquisition’s forces in such a sad state.

“Commander.” Bull nodded at the smaller man. “I hate to interrupt, but I’ve been sent to find out how much longer the practice is going to be. Didn’t think it was my place, but you know how women get when they’re restless.”

“Women?"

Bull gestured towards the gates, where Cullen had somehow missed the two dozen or so women waiting in a gaggle. “Don’t you know about this? Boss sent a message yesterday.”

Still very confused, Cullen shook his head and gestured to his men to take their ease. “I don’t recall getting anything from the Herald yesterday.” He tried not to think of the giant pile of papers that he had shoved off his desk the night before, knowing he probably hadn’t looked at them as closely as he should have. “What’s this all about then?”

Bull smiled smugly. “Well Commander, it seems that the recent influx of refugees included some particularly… _tasty_ widows and a few very _unappreciated_ spinsters, and your soldiers are smitten. One of the women was lamenting how hard it is to be courted properly in a small village like Haven, so the Boss offered to make them a space to go spinning with their sweethearts under the moonlight. Word is she got it done today, so the ladies are hoping to be swept off your feet by the finest- “

Cullen interrupted Bull with a sinking feeling in his gut. “They want to go out on the ice, right?” Not waiting for a response he turned towards his troops.

“Men!” he bellowed, “I apologize for keeping you here so long. I hope I did my part in getting you warmed up for tonight! The lake is cold, so do try to keep the ladies as toasty as you can! Dismissed!” The men cheered and positively raced out of the yard as the women rushed down from the gates.

Bull didn’t stick around after that, and Cullen put away the practice swords alone. He dragged the task out, dreading what he had to do after. Still, it didn’t take long to wipe down three dozen cheap wooden swords, and even less time to stack them neatly in the barrel by his tent.

_Maybe this won’t be so bad. I’ll just find her, then apologize, then everything will be fine. All I have to do is locate her, which should be easy. Its an hour past sundown, so she’ll be…. Hmm. If it was after breakfast she would be in the War Room. After that she checks with Threnn and then after that she goes… Maker’s balls, I have no idea what she does all day. Someone has to know though, right?_

Surprisingly, he saw her as soon as he walked into Haven proper. The Herald was sitting by Varric’s fire, staring down at her lap intently while Varric seemed uncharacteristically quiet. As he walked closer, he saw that her lap was filled with brightly colored string, and she was carefully wrapping a length of it around a skinny wooden stick.

She must have heard his footsteps, for as he walked up she started counting very deliberately. “7, 8, 9, 70, just a minute whoever you are, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.” She sighed and laid her knitting down before looking up with her customary polite smile. When she saw who was standing by the fire, the edges of her smile seemed to tighten, as if it took an act of will to hold it in place. “Yes Commander?"

Now that he was here, Cullen wasn’t quite sure what to say, but he definitely did not want to say it in front of Varric. “My lady, I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time. I wanted to get your opinion on the calibration of the trebuchets.”

She snorted lightly and turned back to her knitting. “I doubt very much that my expertise is needed for our siege equipment. I will defer to your better judgement. Was there anything else, Commander?”

Cullen glanced at Varric, who was studiously trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. _Dammed dwarf. Fine, if I have to do this in front of him, so be it._ “Herald, I should apologize for what I said to you earlier today. I should have paid attention to the message you sent yesterday.”

The Herald looked him curiously, as if to see if he was going to say anything else. When he didn’t, she gave a low, joyless chuckle. “Very well then. Although you did not actually apologize, I will accept it as such. Consider your debt paid. Good evening, Commander.”

 _Didn’t actually apologize? Of all the…. oh wait. I didn’t say that right did I. Buck up soldier, you can still make this right._ “My lady, that’s not -”

Her head snapped up, and the look in her eyes made him take an involuntary step back. “You try my patience sir.” Her voice was something close to a growl now, menace underlying her clipped tones. “I am not _your lady_  and you will not address me as such. You have made it perfectly clear that you do not value my role as Herald, you distrust my magic, and you don't even realize that you don't know my full name. As such, since I have graciously accepted your utterly _insipid_ apology and bid you a good evening, there is really no reason for you to speak to me at all.”

She dropped her gaze back to her lap, as if he didn’t exist at all. Cullen, a little gobsmacked by her visceral reaction, turned to Varric, hoping to see a sympathetic face. Instead, the dwarf just shook his head slowly and pointed towards the gates. “Good night, Curly.”

Cullen scowled at the smaller man, but walked back to the gates with as much dignity as he could summon, determined not to look back. Though he knew that he’d behaved terribly, the Herald's words still stung. _What a bitch. I'm trying to do the right thing, and she can't even accept a simple apology._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, there was some funky formatting going on in the earlier posting. It should all be fixed now. 
> 
> Just a note about the Caution in this chapter. It always bothered me that the Templar's don't have duties beyond waiting for the mages to screw up. This is my attempt to give them something a little more pro-active to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Cullen was just walking back to the tent when he saw that Iron Bull had returned, and was loitering outside the training grounds. When the Qunari saw him, he raised a hand and came over. “Heyya Commander. The boys told me that I'm too big to go out on the ice, but I'm pretty sure that they just don't want any competition around their fillies. Any interest in grabbing a drink with me 'n Krem?”

Cullen rubbed his forehead, wishing that this day would hurry up and end. “No thank you Bull. I have some work I'd like to get to, and I think you and Krem will have more fun without me.”

Bull laughed and slapped Cullen's back, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Don't sell yourself short Commander. C'mon, it'll be fun. If Varric and the boss are up for it, we could get a game of Wicked Grace going.”

The thought of having to see the Herald again made his guts twist up, so he just shook his head and ducked into his tent. Bull clearly noticed something was wrong, since he pushed right in after him, (although he had to bend almost double to get through the flap.)

“Commander, is everything alright? You seemed a little overwhelmed for a second there.” Bull caught sight of Cullen’s overloaded desk and didn’t wait for a response. “ _Basra Vashedan_. No wonder you didn’t know what was happening earlier. How do you get anything done?” Mindful of his horns, Bull stuck his head out of the tent and hollered for Krem. Within a minute, the skinny Tevinter warrior had popped into the tent.

_This is getting ridiculous. There’s barely room for two in this tent, let alone two men and a Qunari._

Cullen tried to move between Bull and the desk, but Bull casually grabbed him and clapped a hand over his mouth. Talking over his head, Bull started to explain the situation to Krem. “Commander is in over his head with all the paperwork. Think your crafty Vint mind can sort through some of it for him?”

Krem dodged nimbly around Cullen and sized up the desk. “Aw, Boss, you got me things to collate. You really shouldn’t have.”

Cullen was trying to protest around Bull’s hand, but all he could manage was angry pointing at Krem, who smiled back almost sweetly. “Don’t worry about it Commander. Nightingale codes all the good stuff and most of this is probably dupes of stuff the Chargers get copied on. Just go get a drink with the ox-man, and I’ll have you sorted out in no time.”

Bull shoved Cullen out of the tent, and managed to get himself out with a minimum of flailing. _That would be funny, if I were in a better mood. Who the hell does Bull think he is? He can’t just barge into my things! I outrank him and he has  no right to interfere like that._

What happened next was something close to attempted suicide, but Cullen was angry past caring. He whirled around and _slammed_ his fist into the Qunari's mouth.

“I don’t need anyone to help me with my papers like I’m some kind of child!” His face was hot, his knuckles were bleeding and all he wanted to do was to start tearing the world apart piece by piece.

Bull rubbed his mouth. “Right. That's not gonna work for me.” Almost casually, he grabbed the back of Cullen's coat and started hauling him towards the edges of the training area. “I don't make a habit of taking hits for no reason, so you and me are going to have a little chat now. What nug crawled up your hole?”

“I -” Cullen had no idea where to start. “I don't like people going through my paperwork.” This was a completely laughable response, and he knew it, but Bull just _stared_ at him.

“Yeah, well you're going to have to. Look Commander, I haven’t been here long, and we don’t know each other very well yet. But I know something about being in charge, and you are doing a piss-poor job of it.”

That got Cullen's attention.

“Your men love you, and your colleagues respect you, but you aren't handling your shit. We're out there busting our asses every day, and you aren't holding up your end of the bargain.”

“Hang on Bull, what aren't I doing?”

“You don’t trust anyone, and you think you have to do every job yourself, so nothing gets done. The boss has sent in three requisitions for you to get those damn watchtowers built, and she finally had to route it through Leliana to get you to look at it. I don't know what your problem with her is, but you better get over it right quick.”

“I don't have any problem with the Herald.”

“Yeah, that’s not what's going around camp. Rumor is that you had a go at her earlier for being a spoiled brat.”

Cullen goggled. “How do you know about that?”

Bull rolled his one eye. “Everyone knows about that. It’s just what I've been saying. This whole place runs on gossip, and you're trying to act like you're above it all, so you're missing everything. For example, we need those watchtowers built for the same reason we spent two days running around killing wolves. Master Dennet won't give shit to the Inquisition, but if we clean up the area a little he'll set us up with the best mounts he can, which is, I believe, what you asked the Herald to do for you?”

 _Oh nugshit._ “Oh. I hadn't realized...”

Bull slapped his shoulder again, though not as hard this time. “Listen Commander, I've heard rumors about some of the crap you went through, and frankly, it creeps me the fuck out. You're justified in being wary, but this is a brave new world. You need to find someone to talk to about some of this before it eats you up and you need to learn how to trust some of your people. If you hadn't burned the bridge entirely, I'd say you should talk to the Boss.”

Cullen looked up suspiciously. “Why should I talk to _her_ about anything? She made it clear that she doesn't care.”

Bull's belly shook as he laughed. “Aw, has she been using her manners on you? That's some cold shit, but you probably deserved it.” Seeing his confusion, Bull explained. “See, the Boss has a bunch of sisters, and they were in charge of her when she was a kid. Whenever they’d take her somewhere, they’d always tell her to _put on her manners_. She used them on me when we met on the Coast, and didn’t take them off till she’d decided I was okay. If she’s still using them on you, it means she still doesn’t trust you at all.”

Sinking his face into his hands, Cullen prayed Bull was almost done, but sadly, he wasn’t.

“Look, you'll figure this out for yourself at some point, but let me save you some time. The boss ain't spoiled, not a bit. Sure she's noble, but she left that behind a long time ago. This whole time, ever since we've been traveling, she hasn't complained about anything important. I mean, we all bitch about the shitty weather, and climbing up rocks, and she does that with us, but when it comes to the important stuff she just... steps over it and gets the job done. She’s got every reason to rail against the universe for laying this on her, but instead she’s running around making sure people have enough to eat. She's doing a damn sight better than I would have if I'd woken up with that _thing_ pulsing in my hand.”

Cullen tried to contemplate a world where he'd awoken in a jail cell, been blamed for the murder of the Divine, and oh right, had a fade rift implanted into his shield hand. As much as he wished he could think he'd have strode in heroically and saved the world immediately, he probably wouldn't have lasted a day without losing his mind. “Yeah, okay. I get what you're saying. I'll try to make it up to her.”

Bull nodded. “You do that. You might find that you have a lot in common, but I’m not going to spill any of her secrets.”

They started walking back towards the bright light of the fires when a thought occurred to Cullen. “Hey Bull, maybe you can clarify something for me. Earlier, she - um, the Herald said something about how I don't know her proper name? Isn't it just Alinora Evelyn Trevelyan?”

Bull laughed again. “No, that’s just part of it. That’s what was given to the Conclave, but her full name is a lot longer than that.”

“Well what is it then?”

“No one knows.” Leaning down conspiratorially, Bull waggled an eyebrow. “Even Sister Leliana hasn’t been able to find out. There's probably a report about it on your desk somewhere, but apparently Alinora’s full name is a doozy, and she made her family swear never to tell anyone. Varric’s been trying to get it out of her, but so far, she ain’t budging. All she'll say is that it's even worse than _Cassandra's.”_

Cullen had heard the whole of Cassandra's  name and winced in sympathy. “Well, why did she bring it up to me if she hates it so much?”

Bull shrugged. “Best guess, she hates you too right now, but is willing to give you a shot. I think she just gave you a quest, Commander. Find out what her name is, and she’ll give you a second chance.”

_Why do I doubt that it will be that easy? All I have to do is find the answer to a question that no one else can find, and convince the fucking Herald of Andraste that I'm not the biggest clod in Thedas._

*****

Many hours later, Cullen put down the last of his documents and sighed heavily. True to his word, Krem had neatly organized the hash he'd made of his desk, clearing out all extraneous paperwork and leaving a neat stack of the only the most essential things to review.

Looking through them made Cullen realize how badly he'd handled the Herald so far. Bull was right about the horses, and a lot of other things too. The Herald had garnered an enormous amount of goodwill in the surrounding regions, in addition to closing rifts as she found them. She'd cleared out groups of rogue Mages and Templars, valuing the lives of the common people over choosing a side in the war.

He'd also found out more about her personally, and discovered that she wasn't quite the spoiled noble she presented as. She was Alinora Trevelyan, sure, but that meant that she was the fifth child of Lord and Lady Trevelyan. This would have meant more if she hadn't been followed by _eight_ other siblings. Cullen thought he had grown up in a large family, but the thought of living with _twelve_ other children was overwhelming. From what Leliana had been able to gather, Alinora was originally destined for a noble marriage, and had spent the first part of her life learning how to run a household, raise a family, and generally master all domestic pursuits.

She had developed magic and been sent to the Ostwick Circle at age thirteen, and there were no reports of any wrongdoing. In fact, the records that Leliana had been able to recover indicated that she was well-liked by everyone there, and had never been cited with any rule breaking worse than staying out past curfew.

 _Void take me. She seems to be the very picture of a model Mage, and is doing everything we could have asked of her. Why do I dislike her so?_ He cast his thoughts back over their conversation, trying to figure out where he had turned from minor irritation to full scale rage. _It wasn't until she exhausted herself and didn't have any.... oh. The Lyrium. I hated her because she didn't have any lyrium._

Shame rose up in him, and for a moment he thought he might vomit. Gripping the edge of the desk, he fought to keep himself under control. Although the full effects of withdrawal hadn't hit him yet, he was still constantly and painfully aware that his body craved the unnatural warmth that a draught of lyrium would provide. He had been craving it so much that the Herald's casual dismissal of the potion had utterly incensed him, and he hadn't even noticed it happening.

_Maker help me. I have been a dishonorable fool, and I must find a way to prove myself. She wants her name, so how can I find it? Her family would know, but Leliana's report says they dodged around providing it and I don't have time to try to convince them. Her Circle might know, but it fell last year and none of the other mages have made it to Haven._

Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and his whole body stiffened. He _knew_ where it would be, where her full and complete identifying name would have to be written. Did he dare to try to find it that way? Slowly, he moved towards his chest where his most personal belongings were stored. He unloaded it and carefully pressed his finger to the rune inscribed at the bottom. It was ironic that his chest was spelled such, but it was the only way to safeguard the contents stored in the shallow false bottom. Scooping out the tiny book he had taken from Kirkwall, Cullen took a moment to pray.

_Blessed Andraste, if I remember correctly, please let it be right that I do this._

His fingers shook as he turned the pages of the notebook, looking for the notes he had carefully copied from a missive all those months ago. Finding the right page, he ran a finger down it, looking for the right entry. There it was, in his cramped handwritten cipher:

_Ostwick - Lake Calenhad._


	4. Interlude

It had been three days since the Cullen incident, and Ali still couldn’t shake the feeling that things should have gone differently. Varric had tried to talk to her at the campfire, but she’d been vague about what the disagreement had been, and had dodged all his attempts to find out more.  The next morning she'd gathered Varric, Blackwall and Cassandra before dawn and headed out to the Hinterlands. They didn't have anything urgent to get done there, but she couldn't face the thought of the War Table and trying to be polite to Cullen.

It turned out to be a good thing that they'd gone to the Hinterlands anyways. Two more rifts had opened, with some particularly nasty demons coming through. After closing those, they found the fortress that the troublesome mercs had moved into. After a quick huddle, they decided that the four of them could clear it out, and had camped nearby before attacking at dawn. It was an exhilarating fight, all told. Cassandra and Blackwall worked beautifully in tandem, one always attacking and one always defending. Varric popped around the battlements, always managing to find a loose chink in someone's armor, though he still kept edging too close to the action and getting hit badly. For her part Ali was getting faster at causing damage with her spells and her barriers were getting much stronger. All in all, they were really starting to fight like a cohesive unit, and the fortress had fallen with only token resistance.

Now, Ali sat on the edge of a tower of the fortress, idly playing with one of the weird shards they kept finding. _I really do need to figure out what these things are. The skulls are so creepy, but there must be a purpose there, right? Leliana can get her people on it, and maybe Cullen has some Fereldan - nope, we're not asking him._

_Why am I obsessing over this so much? This isn’t the first time someone has been rude to me, and certainly not the first time I’ve been underestimated. It’s just… when I found out the great Cullen Rutherford was going to be my advisor, I was so excited. Everyone said that he was this paragon of Templar ideals and that he single handedly saved the mages of Kirkwall from Tranquility. The only thing those stories got right is how handsome he is, and that's barely true. He doesn't smile, and he has mean eyes._

_As for the rest of it… nothing. When I ask a question, he patronizes me. When I offer to take care of something, he ridicules the task. When I ask for help, he lectures me. I feel like my only use is to be a whipping girl, and I will be damned if I let him bounce me off walls just to make himself feel better._

She was so lost in thought that she didn't hear Blackwall come up behind her until he gently cleared his throat. “My lady, the scouts have arrived from camp with our mounts. If you'd like to make Haven by sundown, we'll need to be leaving.”

Ali smiled and took his outstretched hand, letting him pull her to her feet. _It’s odd, but it doesn't bother me when Blackwall says_ my lady _, but when Cullen does it, I want to claw his eyes out. Blackwall always says it like he respects me, and my role, while the Commander says it with such resentment. Ugh! Void take the man. I refuse to fritter away my time worrying about what he thinks of me!_

*****

Determined to keep her resolution not to obsess over the Commander, Ali kept herself occupied on the ride back to Haven, thankful that she was able to knit while riding a horse. The day was pleasant weather for once, and she was able to find some contentment in the steady movement of her horse and the peaceful clicking of her needles. She was so content in fact, that she didn’t realize she was singing softly under her breath until she heard Blackwall laugh gently and join in with her on the chorus.

 _And it’s no, nay, never,_  
_No nay never no more,_  
_Will I play the wild rover_  
_No never no more_.

Ali gaped at him, utterly surprised by how lovely his baritone was. Blackwall just nodded gravely at her with a twinkle in his eye before launching into the next verse.

 _I went to an ale-house I used to frequent_  
_And I told the landlady my money was spent._  
_I asked her for credit, she answered me “nay_  
_Such a custom as yours I could have any day.”_

This time, it was Ali’s turn to join in with him at the chorus, and so together they sang the rest of the song. When they finished, there was silence for a moment before Varric let out an ear-splitting whistle that made all their horses skitter across the road.

“Junebug, Warden, that was deeply impressive. You should think about going pro.”

Blackwall laughed at that. “I don’t think it was as good as all that. Still Herald, you’ve a sweet voice. I haven’t heard that song in an age.”

Ali shrugged. “There was always music in the Circle. We didn't have much to entertain ourselves with beyond the orgies and the blood magic, so we all learned to sing and dance.

Varric raised his eyebrows. “Hmm… Cullen never mentioned dancing in his Circle.”

She scowled at the mention of the man. “Cullen is a prat. Who would dance with him?”

Ahead of them Cassandra slowed her horse and reeled it around. “All this chatter is wasting time. If you must talk, let it be of Inquisition business, not such frivolous nonsense.” The stern look on her face softened ever so slightly.” That is…. Unless you know the words to _Black is the color_?”

Blackwall raised his eyebrows at Ali, who nodded back at him. He started, and she jumped in a line later.

 _Black is the color of my true love’s hair_  
_Her lips are like some roses fair_  
_She has the sweetest smile and the gentlest hands_  
_And I love the ground whereon she stands._

When they finished that song, Varric requested an old favorite from Kirkwall. Then Blackwall sang a soldiers song that made them all blush with its double entendres, before the dwarf taught them a sea shanty of Isabela’s that finally tempted Cassandra to join in the singing as they all laughed over the tongue-twisting lyrics. And so the afternoon progressed, miles passing easily, and Haven drawing them ever closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please indulge this brief interlude into song-ficiness. Black is her hair reminds me so much of Cassandra that I had to work it in somewhere.


	5. Chapter 5

_The Herald is avoiding me_.

Cullen was irritated that he hadn't planned for this. He'd assumed she'd be angry at him, but it hadn't occurred to him that she wouldn't even give her the chance to speak to her. He hadn't thought anything of it when she'd come back to Haven and ridden right by his training camp, and the fact that she'd missed dinner the first night back was easily chalked up to road fatigue.

That had been two days ago. Since then, he had seen at the War Table twice, but she stayed focused on the table map and didn't respond to him directly, darting out the second the meeting ended. Other than that, he'd only caught brief glimpses of her from a distance, and she'd always disappeared by the time he made his way over to her.

_This is taking up too much of my energy. I spent a day there and back finding out her stupid name, and now I can't spend hours chasing her around the village._

Which is how Cullen found himself lurking outside her hut, waiting for her to retire for the evening, and trying to avoid notice by any curious passersby. At last she approached up the hill, chatting amiably with the apostate, Solas. They stood for a moment, discussing something about memories in the Fade. As soon as Solas entered his own hut, Cullen stepped out of the shadows, trying not to spook the Herald. “A word, if you don't mind?”

He could see her back stiffen in annoyance, but her face was a study in politeness. “Just one? Very well then Commander.”

As she moved to open her door, Cullen gently gripped her elbow and turned her to face him. “The word is... Apetwit.”

She had clearly not been expecting that, and her eyes grew round with shock. Closing her mouth, she pushed the door open and gestured for him to go inside. He noticed that after she followed him in, she closed the door but did not bolt it shut.

Cullen had never been in her cabin before, and he took a moment to look around. It was sparsely decorated, but what was there was useful and cheerful, from the bright quilt on the bed to the fat pots of elfroot blooming in the windowsill.

She noticed him looking curiously at a small collection of bottles by the washbasin and gave a wry smile. “None of this is mine, really. Everything I owned was destroyed in the explosion, so this is all on loan.”

Cullen turned, surprised that he hadn’t considered that. “You have nothing left from before?”

“Just about. I had a few things on my person when I went into… well, Leliana kept them when I was jailed. So the sum total of heirlooms is my grandmother’s golden ring, my grimoire, and the stick of kohl I had in my pocket.”

“Kohl?”

She waved a hand in the direction of her eyes, which were, as usual, lined and shaded nearly black. “Charcoal stick. A cosmetic. Why are we discussing this?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed a bottle off the mantle. “Let’s have a drink, shall we, and you can explain what you said before. Is that all you know?”

Cullen took a deep breath, hoping he was remembering it all correctly. “You are Lady Alinora Penelope Evelyn Thali Woodrow Isadora Trevelyan.”

She grimaced, and handed him a small draught of clear liquid. “Maker’s thumbs, you really do have all of it, don’t you? How did you ever find out?”

Cullen gestured to the small table in front of the hearth. “My- umm, I will tell you that, but could we sit first? I think we have some things to discuss.”

Quite to his surprise, she shook her head and stood where she was, feet planted firmly and arms crossed. “No. First you have to give me a solemn promise that my name and all assorted stories will remain in confidence. I don’t fancy spilling all this if I’m going to read about it in Varric’s next book.”

 _She’s going to make me swear to it? What kind of man does she take me for?_ Cullen didn’t explore that thought any further, afraid of where it might take him. Instead, he lifted his glass. “I do so promise.”

“Very well.” Alinora sat at the table. “Ask your questions.”

He took a sip of his drink, marveling at the rose taste of it. “How in Thedas did you end up those initials? And Woodrow?

“Well, it’s my big brother’s fault really. You’ll know the size of my family?” At his nod, she continued, stretching her feet under  the table and settling in for the tale. “I was born earlier than expected, and my father was away on business, leaving my mother alone with my older siblings. Apparently the birth was a tough one, and at some point, my mother became convinced that she was going to die of it.”

She caught his look of concern and waved it away. “Everyone survives this tale, never fear. The midwife was with her, and she said that mother started ranting about how Papa would marry again, and she would be forgotten. She started rattling off a list of names from her side of the family and demanding that the baby get all of them. Woodrow was by far the most important as that was my Grandpapa’s name.”

Cullen reached across the table and refilled her glass. “What about the initials?”

“Ah right, of course. The midwife was preoccupied trying to save me and Mama, so she sent my two eldest brothers to the Chantry to ask for prayers. Micah and Robis were both little shits at that point, so on the way they organized the names just so. When they told the Chantry Mother what was happening, they also told her that the baby had been named and it needed to be recorded.  Lucky for me, my brothers were too young to have a really firm grasp of profanity, so I only ended up with Apetwit.”

“This is the lucky version of the story?”

She looked at him very seriously from across the table. “Cullen, one of the names my mother said was Aveline. My brothers could have used that instead of Isadora.”

He took a moment to work that out before awareness dawned. “Right, that would have been… worse.”

“Quite. My parents were horrified by the whole thing of course, and my brothers roundly punished. It was too late though – as far as they were concerned the Maker knew me by that name and they would do nothing to remove me from his sight. In more earthly company though, they shortened it to Alinora Evelyn, which was much appreciated.” She tossed back the rest of her drink.  “So Commander, that’s the whole story. Was there anything else you wanted to know”?

“I must admit that I was a little overwhelmed when I learned you had a dozen siblings? What was that like?”

She grinned at him and her eyes lit up, and for a second he could see the reflection of her childhood on her face. “It was ridiculous. Mama and Papa are both extremely devout, and they believe they were called to some really high-volume breeding.”

“Are you close with your siblings?”

“Some of them, yea? I don’t even know the youngest tot - he was born after I went to the Circle. The rest of us were in and out of the house growing up - my parents loved children but they didn’t coddle us. I barely missed being fostered out to some noble house in the Marches myself."

“Why didn’t you?” As soon as the words left Cullen’s mouth, he winced, realizing the probable cause. “Ah, nevermind. You manifested at thirteen, correct? Can you - are you willing to talk about that?”

“I suppose.” Her accent, which had broadened over the story of her family, retreated back to the clipped tones she used more often. “I was thirteen, and one of my brothers was crying because one of my other brothers had eaten all the cookies. So I went to make more, but the oven was taking forever to heat, and I was so frustrated that… poof. Hot oven. Happy brother. Good cookies.”

Cullen knew his mouth was hanging open, and he suddenly realized that he must look a fool. “Most mages find out they have magic because they start a forest fire, or freeze a room full of people solid. But you found out with… cookies?”

“Yes. I told Mama, and then Papa notified the Templars and made arrangements to take me to the Circle. I think they knew that with all their children, chances were that one of us would pop up magic. They were just glad it was me instead of one of the boys, or one of the pretty daughters.”

She was so matter of fact about the last statement that it took a moment for the implications to land. When they did, he stumbled to find the words to respond. Before he could, she kept talking.

“I was disowned, of course, but they did it with love. Papa found a way to leave me with some status - something like a bastard or a spinster cousin. I didn’t get any land, or dowry money, but because I kept my name, and they had voluntarily contacted the Templars I maintained some status in the Circle. And I even got to see my family, which was more than most mages got. Whenever any of them passed through Ostwick, they would come see me in the Circle. My brother Bragi was particularly good about it, and I saw him nearly every year.”

"Did- Were you happy in the Circle?" Cullen knew this was a personal question to ask a mage, but he couldn't help himself. Based on the look she shot him from under her eyelashes, she knew it too.

"I was as happy as possible under the circumstances. I enjoyed the scholarship, and the sense of belonging that I found there. As for the other side of it, and for the question you didn't ask but probably will - yes there were abuses of power, and yes I suffered at the hands of those who held power over me. It was not as bad as it could have been, but quite a bit worse than it should have been."

Nothing about this was surprising, but her words still made all the hair on his neck stand up. No matter how many abuses he witnessed or heard of, he always felt the same shame that he had overlooked them for so long before leaving the Order. Cullen almost reached out and touched her hand, but reconsidered at the last moment. He knew some kind of response was required, but for the life of him, he didn't know what he should say.

Alinora must have realized his tension. She waved her hand, dismissing her previous statement. "Don't fash yourself about. Those wounds are long since healed. Ask me again sometime if you've a mind to discuss it. But now, if you don’t mind, I would like to know how you found my name to begin with.”

Cullen was very tempted to skip to the end of this conversation and skirt right around all the unpleasant things he had to say. He studied her across the table, wondering if he really had to make the amends he’d come here to make.

He didn’t know exactly what the Herald had been up to today, but from the looks of her, it had been a hard job. Her brown braids had come loose from their pins, and were hanging in disordered loops from the nape of her neck. She still had the dark makeup – _kohl_ – around her eyes, but it had smeared part way down her cheeks, and her normally bright green eyes were red rimmed with fatigue. There was a streak of mud on her neck, and a rip in the collar of her vest. He focused on her hands for the first time, and saw that her fingernails were chewed to the quick and her knuckles were scabbed and bruised.

It was that last bit that made his decision for him – she was working as hard as any of his recruits, and he couldn’t continue to shortchange her based on her circumstances of birth. “I will tell you, I promise, but there’s something else we should talk about first.  You are owed an apology for –“

“Oh for fucks sake Cullen!” She stood up from the table. “Not this condescending shit again.”

Cullen stayed seated, meeting her gaze before staying steadily. “I apologize for my behavior – Alinora. It was unwarranted, and undeserving and I hope that you will forgive me for my unkind words.”

She considered this, then retook her chair. “You’ve never called me by my name before.”

“No.”

“So perhaps you mean this apology in earnest.”

“Yes.”

“Is there a reason your behavior was so ungallant?”

“Yes.”

“Would you care to tell me what it is?”

“No.”

She seemed to mull this over for a very long time, and he sat silently, giving her space to decide if forgiveness should be granted.

“Commander… no, Cullen.” She spoke slowly, weighing her words out carefully. “I think we have both behaved badly. Your slight may have been greater than mine, but I should not have run away like… well, a child. I think perhaps we are both better than this, and we should strive to start afresh with one another, and attempt to behave like adults.”

_Oh, thank the Maker._

He inclined his head formally, then lifted his glass in a toast. “To adulthood then, my lady.”

They clinked the tiny glasses and drank of the rose flavored liquor. As they set their glasses back down, she took a deep breath. “Look, you may be forgiven, but I’m still not your lady so please stop. And are you ever going to tell me how you found my void-blessed name?” She was smiling now, almost laughing. “I know Leliana doesn’t know, and if Bull found out the whole village would have it by the end of the day. You can’t have heard from my family, and I doubt the Chantry would have told you, and the only other place it might be recorded –“

He could see the thought connect in her mind, and an instant later she _leapt_ back from the table, getting a wall against her back. “Templars!” she hissed, “What did you do?” She gestured abruptly, and a blue haze over her skin – in her panic she’d been able to cast a barrier without the benefit of a staff.

Ever so slowly Cullen lifted his hands to show he held nothing, then reached to his belt and removed the small pouch he’d had there all along. Carefully, he pulled out a small metal box and put it in the middle of the table before standing and stepping to the opposite side of the hut.

_Oh Andraste, how did I not see this coming. She’s terrified of me now. Actually… it seems like she’s terrified of what’s in the box._

“Lady, I want you to listen to me now. After the Circles started to fall and the White Spire was destroyed, all the remaining phylacteries were moved for safekeeping. I received word of their new locations just before leaving Kirkwall, and I took the information with me when I left the Order. Yours was included in a batch that was sent to a secure location near Lake Calenhad, and I was able to retrieve it while you were in the Hinterlands. It had your name on it, which is how I got that information and I brought it back for you.”

Alinora leaned forward and snatched the box off the table, clutching it to her chest. In a painfully small voice, she asked, “If I open this, will it hurt me?”

_Why would she think that? Phylacteries are only used as weapons against the worst sort of mages, and there is nothing in her background to indicate she was ever censured like that. Unless this is what she meant by abuses of power? Oh Maker, what have I done?_

He kept his gaze locked on hers, hoping she could see his sincerity. “Alinora, it is safe. You can handle it without fear.” He started moving towards the door, trying not to stir her panic. “If you wish to destroy it, you need only cast it into a fire stoked with blood lotus and it will be unbound from you.”

She was calmer now, and her barrier dropped. “Yes, I’m familiar with the ritual. I’m sure Solas will be able to assist me.” She wrapped her hand around the box and dropped her head in a quick bow of thanks. “Commander, what of the rest of them?“

Oh, how he hoped she wouldn’t ask that question, but the thought of lying about this was abhorrent. “Alinora, there were dozens there, but only a handful were still… alive.” She made a noise close to a sob but bit her lip to keep quiet. “I brought those back to Haven, and will keep them secret and safe until you decide what to do with them. The others I destroyed, although I did keep the names if you wish to see them.”

Her only answer was a slightly teary nod.

Cullen felt no need to press his luck any further. He nodded back respectfully and opened the door to her hut, cutting her off. “It has been a long day, lady. If you wish it, we will speak more tomorrow.” Without another word, he slipped out and headed back to his own tent.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, Alinora woke feeling better than she deserved. She had stayed up half the night, clutching the small lead box and pacing her room, trying to make a decision. It had taken her several hours to work up the nerve to open the box, but when she did at last, it was almost a disappointment.

All mages fear their phylactery. It is the ultimate symbol of incarceration in the Circle and the process of creating one is terrifying to a young mage. Ali could easily remember the disdain on the Templar’s faces as they sliced her finger open, and the harsh words of warning uttered as they bled out a piece of her life force to chain her to a new way of life. She had picked at the scab, and the resulting scar had been a constant reminder that for the last fifteen years of her life, she wasn't free to choose her own path in the world.

It was expected that, once created, a phylactery would be hidden from a mage unless they fell victim to a demon, or tried to escape the Circle, in which case a Templar could use it for recapture or death. Of course, what was expected was not always what happened, and Ali could easily remember the horrible night some six years before when she had seen her phylactery once again.

And now it was in her hand. It was a small thing, barely big enough for the requisite seven drops, and capped with an unadorned lump of lead. Her name was on a scrap of parchment that wound around the glass, hiding the shimmering red of her enchanted blood.

It had taken most of the night, but Ali had finally decided what to do with the cursed vial. Decision made, she had managed to eke out a few hours of dreamless sleep before rising to meet a new day. She carefully dressed her bruised knuckles, and combed and rebraided her long hair. Her elbow was still a dull throb of pain from her work yesterday, and she resolved to see a healer later if it wasn’t improved.  The last step of her toilette, as always, was to wipe her face clean, then reapply the dark makeup around her eyes. As a noblewoman, she would never have been allowed to wear such _common_ makeup as heavy kohl, but she and her sisters had always been fascinated by the mysterious look it gave the women at the docks. After a few months in the Circle, Ali had realized that she could wear whatever damned makeup she pleased, and had immediately sent away for her first stick of kohl. Over the years, she had come to think of it as a kind of armor against the world, and never set foot in Haven without wearing it.

Clean and presentable as it was possible to be when you only have one set of clothing, Ali set off towards the Chantry, where another meeting in the War Room awaited.

*****

As far as meetings go, it was a rather pedestrian one. Most of the pressing issues had been dealt with the day before upon her return from the Hinterlands, so they were now dealing with issues like ration adjustments and drainage for the upcoming spring thaws. At last, the meeting concluded, and her advisors all started packing up their paperwork. Cullen seemed especially keen on getting out of there, and he had hardly glanced at her the whole meeting.

 _Time for courage._ “Commander, could you stay back a moment? I have a matter to discuss with you.” Leliana and Josephine looked at her questioningly, but she gave them a small smile and mouthed _Templar stuff_ , which seemed to satisfy them.

As the door shut. Ali tried to summon up a smile, but couldn’t quite get her mouth to cooperate. “Cullen, someday we will have a conversation that doesn’t start with a request or an apology, but I don’t think today is that day. Will you forgive me for how I acted last night?”

Across the table, Cullen crossed his arms over his armor. He hadn’t shaved, though his hair was combed. Perhaps he’d also had a long evening after leaving her hut?

“Herald, no apologies are in order. You were perfectly justified in your reaction, and if anything, I should apologize for taking what should have been a joking request too far.”

_All this round and round is giving me a headache. I’m so tired of being at odds with this man._

Ali raised her hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Seriously, we have to stop apologizing to each other. Let us say that neither of us acted poorly, and we just are naturally adversarial.”

He smirked at that, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward on the table. “Agreed. No more apologies. Have you destroyed your… is it done?”

A stab of pain jolted up her arm, and Ali couldn’t help but rub at her sore elbow. “It’s taken care of. Thank you, again.”

Cullen ignored that, and seemed distracted by her arm. "Herald, are you quite well?”

Shrugging, she forced her arms down to her sides. “Its nothing. Cassandra has been teaching me some basic maneuvers to make me less dependent on magic. Yesterday, she had me throwing punches at practice dummies, and based on how sore my elbow is, I probably should have stopped sooner.”

Cullen moved around the table to her side, “If that’s all you’ve been doing, you shouldn’t be feeling it in your elbow. May I?” She looked confused, so he explained further. “I’m no healer, but practice injuries are fairly common in my line of work. You may have overextended something and I might be able to help.”

She bit her lip, but pulled up her right sleeve and held out her arm. Cullen leaned over it, focusing on a slightly swollen area at the top of her forearm, which didn’t seem to surprise him. He dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it above her elbow tightly, then pulled her sleeve back down over it.

“There, see how that feels.”

She bent her arm a few times, marveling at how reduced the pain was.  “Thank you Cullen, that’s prime. What did you do?”

He shook his head, dismissing the praise. “It was nothing. I used to get the same thing when I started Templar training. Just try to rest it this evening, and don’t sleep on top of it. You’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Nodding formally, he gathered up his papers and left, leaving her standing alone by the War Table.

_What a strange man. He’s very cold, but mayhaps not quite as mean as I thought. Still, he doesn’t trust me very much, and I didn’t trust him enough to talk to him about my phylactery. I think we either have not enough in common, or far too much._


	7. Chapter 7

_Of course you’d choose to go after the mages; you’re a fucking mage yourself! How could I have ever thought you would be mature about this!_

_Mature?!? Really? You want to discuss maturity, let’s discuss how you’re only nice to me when I agree with everything you say! You wanted me to make a decision, so I made one. It’s lovely to know what you really think of me._

_It’s not my fault you made the wrong choice. Maybe if you ever took anything seriously in your godforsaken life you…_

_Go to hell Cullen. I’m going to go save the fucking world like a big goddam hero, and when I get back I want to find out that you crawled up your ass directly to the Void!_

Cullen raked his hands through his hair, unable to stop replaying his last conversation with the Herald. When she announced she was returning to Redcliffe to make a deal with the mages, his fury and disappointment had nearly blinded him. They both said some horrible things, and she rode out to the Hinterlands before he’d been able to talk to her again.

Although her insults were cutting, the worst part was that it hadn’t occurred to him before that moment that there was anything more than Inquisition business between them. As soon as she ridden off in anger, he realized how accustomed he’d grown to spending casual time with the Herald.

They weren’t anything like friends, but they’d developed some kind of accord. He’d grown to expect that she would swing by his camp every night to exchange a few words, and he’d taken to timing his breakfast for when she would be eating. They would exchange bits of gossip about their companions, and inevitably she’d get him talking about Fereldan military history just so she could tease him about lecturing her. They wouldn’t talk long, but they were some of the most enjoyable interactions of his day.

That is, until he had fucked it all up by trying to order her to go talk to the Templars instead. She had told him to go to hell, and as he stared out to the frozen lake at Haven, he thought that was well on his way to the Void itself.

*****

Ali couldn’t wait to get back to Haven. She was all abuzz from the brief trip through time, and really wanted to get moving on getting the breach closed.

_And I have to talk to Cullen, and I should probably apologize. I even got the last word in, and it was a good one too. Stupid hindsight and … foresight? I should have thought about what he is losing by not recruiting the Templars - I know he misses being part of a brotherhood, and Maker knows he has good reason to fear Mages en masse.  And based on what I saw in the future... yes, I will apologize as soon as possible, and by the Maker’s fucking foreskin, I will do it with humility and grace._

As if that last thought had tempted some angry spirit of fate, it was ages before she had a chance to speak to Cullen alone. Immediately upon her arrival in Haven, Cassandra bustled her into the chantry to make a full report of the intelligence she'd acquired. Then, after she had finally answered everyone's questions about what she saw in the future (while only withholding one tiny insignificant detail, which she adamantly refused to feel guilty about), they had to start planning for the assault on the breach. Clearly, this would take some coordination, so Ali volunteered to do some sweeps of the outlying areas to tie up loose ends and see about gaining more influence.

Halfway through that conversation, Cullen was summoned away to organize his troops into squads to escort the allied mages to their new quarters. Just as he returned, Ali was summoned to the tavern to calm down a very drunk Iron Bull who would not stop shouting about an _invasion by the Fucking Vints_. All in all, it wasn’t until just after dusk that she spotted him walking towards the stables with a sheaf of paper. She hopped over the fence and tried to look casual.

“Commander, I need a moment of your time at your earliest convenience,” she said as neutrally as possible.

He scowled at her. “Herald, nothing will be convenient for the next few days. Can this wait?”

“I'm leaving for Val Royeaux tomorrow, so sure, no problem."

“Well, then make it fast. I really don’t have time for this right now.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, all plans of humility and grace forgotten. If that’s how he wanted this to go, she would play his game. “You ass. I just wanted to thank you for dying in horrible agony to a vain attempt to save my life. That’s all we’re done thank you for your time. She spun on her heel and stomped off towards the gates, before being stopped by the utterly expected feeling of him grabbing her shoulder.

“Okay, I think I can spare some time for you to explain exactly what you’re talking about? I died? Did this happen while you were… away?”

Smiling smugly to herself, Alinora turned. “I thought your schedule would free up. When I was in the future, crazy tortured Leliana told me what happened to you. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone earlier, since it doesn't have anything to do with the Breach or the Venatori or whoever.”

“I assumed from what you said that all of us succumbed to Red Lyrium poisoning.”

“Well, no, not exactly. I told you about Leliana being tortured. What I didn't tell you is what she said about you.” Ali squished her eyes shut, steeling herself for this part. “Cullen, she said that when you got word of my death, you refused to believe it. Everyone else knew it was a lost cause but you left in the middle of the night and went to Redcliffe to find me. When you found the secret passage sealed off, you launched a one man assault on the castle, determined to rescue me.”

He didn’t seem surprised. “How far did I get?”

“All the way into the Main Keep, but then you saw my head on a pike. At that point, you just tried to take down as many of them as you could. When you were overwhelmed, you fell on your own sword so they couldn't take you alive.” Her voice was flat and she wouldn't meet his eyes. “When Leliana was captured, they showed her your head, right next to mine. They made sure you that you had to stare at my death forever.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Ali sniffed and kicked at the dirt. “The thing is, when I was going through that dungeon, and we found out someone else was alive, I really wanted it to be you. It’s not that I hoped you were being tortured for what you said to me, I just... I was in hell, and I wanted you to be there to help me get out of it.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, then back again. “I know we aren’t getting along right now, but you wouldn’t have gone on a suicide run if you didn’t like me. And really, if I didn’t like you, I would have been glad that you weren’t there with me. This is a really awkward conversation, but I think … we might be friends? Even if we don't want to be?”

Cullen looked torn between laughing and crying, but settled for a nod. “I think we must be. Friends then?”

He held out a hand, and she took it, but instead of shaking it she held it tightly. “I’m glad to hear that. Because in the spirit of friendship, I need to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, anything. Do you want a pony? Because I know a guy who can get you one cheap?”

She rolled her eyes. “Cullen, I’m your horse guy. I’m not asking you to ask me to buy myself a pony. And this is a serious favor. I want you to promise me that if I die you won’t do this. That you’ll keep fighting.”

Cullen stumbled on the path. “How can you say that? You aren’t going to die. I don’t have very many friends, you know. I can’t spare any of them.”

Another eye roll. “Idiot boy. And stop trying to make jokes. There is every chance that I will die before this thing is over. You too, in point of fact. We are fighting against weird, primeval forces that we don’t understand. I knew from the second that I closed my first rift that this could easily kill me. If that happens, I want to be able to rest easy knowing that my dear friend Cullen is going to keep all my people safe. Okay? No more grief driven power plays.  If I fall, you leave me behind and go to work.”

Cullen bowed formally over her hand. “I promise, Lady. I’ll keep fighting.” He pulled back, looking her very seriously in the eye. “And now, for your first official act of friendship, you can come help the Commander of the Inquisition negotiate with our horse master to turn one of the stables into a privy for the mages.

“Ew, really?”

“You know what they say friend. War is hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't quite tell from the game if the Herald actually dies in Redcliffe or just vanishes through the rift, so I went with the idea that they leave a body behind.
> 
> Also, the Big Damn Heroes line is clearly from Firefly. Because Firefly is the best.


	8. Chapter 8

Despite their new-found friendship, Cullen didn't see much of the Herald over the next few weeks. She'd left for Val Royeaux as planned, leaving her advisors to prepare for the assault on the Breach. Alinora did send regular updates from Orlais which were, by necessity, brief; but she did manage to sneak in a few jokes to her advisors, and Cullen was quite content to discover that he was addressed as often as Leliana or Josephine were.

He barely had time to think about the Herald beyond her letters, as the rebel mages were demanding more and more of his attention. Their plans had seemed simple at first - escort the rebel mages in, get them organized, and plan where everyone would stand in the final fight. In practice however, Cullen learned how woefully ignorant he'd been of how much work lay ahead of him. The mages were still trickling in from Fereldan, and they all needed places to sleep. Many of them were injured or malnourished, which required time with the healers. There wasn't enough lyrium to go around, and he was intensely thankful that his cravings were currently manageable, or he would have cracked under the strain of their complaints.

The biggest problem in the camps though, was infighting among the mages themselves. Mages still grouped together by their Circle, and there was a constant jockeying for power and prestige. Fiona tried her best to moderate between everybody, but it turned out that the only other person the mages would obey was Cullen. Somehow, between his authority as a Templar, and the goodwill he could garner for being an Ex-Templar, Cullen was being looked to to settle all manner of disagreements, and in a few extreme cases, knock some heads together.

He had some hope that as a Seeker, Cassandra would be able to help when she returned from Val Royeaux, but in the meantime, the mages had him running from dawn to dusk. He passed his training duties to his lieutenants, then took to skipping the War Room meetings, and then began taking meals with the Mages so he wouldn't have to trot back to the Chantry.

*****

One particularly fine afternoon, Cullen was patiently trying to explain to a slightly deaf older mage why he wasn't permitted to practice casting chain lightning near the lake. He finally resorted to bribing the man with an extra meal chit, (which was probably what he'd been looking for all along,) when he overheard a runner mention something about the Herald's new companions.

Cullen stood quickly and hailed the boy before he could run off again. "Lad, has the Herald returned from the road?"

The boy's eyes widened at being addressed directly by the Commander, but he stood tall and didn't flinch. "Aye sir. She arrived this morning and has been in conference with the Ni- er, with Sister Leliana."

"Right." Cullen wiped his hands awkwardly on his surcoat, nodded to the mage, and moved towards the boy. "I'll walk back with you, son, and you can tell me all the rumors that came flying in with the Herald."

It took a few minutes, but the boy opened up eventually, telling tales of the new arms and armor the returning party wore. Apparently they'd come back with some sort of horned mage, (described by the boy as _scary looking but like an evil queen_ ) and an elf who boasted of being able to shoot the eyes out of a squirrel at fifteen paces. As they walked, Cullen overheard other snatches of news that made him all the more curious to read the reports of Alinora's questing.

At the gates to Haven, Cullen bid the boy a good day and hustled up to the Chantry, hoping to catch the end of the meeting. He was disappointed to see Leliana heading towards her tent. He waved as he went past, but didn't stop, hoping the Herald was still inside. Sure enough, she was just beyond the entrance, talking to someone in low voices. Not wanting to intrude, he stopped just outside of earshot and stood quietly, considering the pair.

Well, the boy hadn't lied. Their new addition was wearing a strange pointed hat that did indeed look like horns. Her dress was impeccably clean - no small feat in a place like Haven. On anyone else, the plunging neckline would have looked provocative, but on her - well, Cullen concluded that the boy had been right on the money with his conclusion of scary and queenly.

The Herald, on the other hand, could not have looked less noble if she'd tried. She'd obviously been sleeping rough for a few days, and hadn't yet bathed since getting back to Haven. Bits of her braids had come loose, and there was a leaf caught just behind her ear. Cullen couldn't see her whole face, but a hint of white on her forehead suggested a bandage, which in turn suggested an injury.

Though he surely would have heard if she was injured, Cullen looked more carefully at her limbs to see if there were signs she was hurt. He couldn't see any, but she was wearing looser armor than usual and he couldn't spot anything. With a pang, he realized that her loose armor was the same that she'd always had, but life on the road was gradually hardening the woman he'd originally dismissed as soft and weak.

He was so lost in thought that it took a moment for him to realize that the two women had stopped talking and were looking at him expectantly. Stepping forward, he inclined his head formally. "Herald, it is good to see you safe returned."

Alinora nodded back, then gestured to her companion. "Cullen, may I present Madame de Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais. Vivienne, this is Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall and leader of the Inquisition's forces. If I've forgotten any titles, both of you can shove off because you already have too many."

Chuckling, Cullen bowed to Vivienne, "Welcome to Haven, Madame de Fer. It is an honor to have you here."

Vivienne accepted this as her due but did nod slightly at him. "You are the ex-Templar I've heard of then? It is good to know that there will be some oversight, even if we can't have a full component of the Order."

Surprised, Cullen turned to Ali, who seemed unperturbed. "Lady Vivienne believes unchecked mages are dangerous. We were just discussing whether the Circles should be reinstated, or if they needed reform first."

"My dear, I am not suggesting they don't need reform, I am merely saying that stories of the abuses are highly exaggerated by those with other motives, and however bad the Circles were, things were better then."

Cullen couldn't help but interject. "Madame, I have seen these abuses first hand, and I left the Order because of them. I don't think the rebellion was warranted, but I believe we have an opportunity to build something better going forward."

Vivienne seemed pleased with this. "Very well said Commander. And now, if you'll excuse me, I do need to speak to Lady Josephine regarding the leverage of my social standing. Good evening."

As Madame de Fer swept away, Ali rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Five days on the road she won't bend, but one handsome Templar says jump and she says how high."

Cullen reached out and gently plucked the leaf from behind her ear. "Rough trip?"

She shook her head and started moving towards the door. "No, it was moonlight and roses all the way. I am glad to be home though."

Once they stepped into the sunlight, Cullen stopped her. Cupping her chin, he examined her forehead. He'd been right, there was a bandage pasted over one of her eyebrows. "Moonlight and roses don't cause head wounds."

She scowled at him and he let go of her face. "Okay, we did run into a few apostates. And a bear. And a nest of spiders that gave me the heebie-jeebies. But really, it wasn't so bad, and the bandage is just there to make sure it doesn't get dirty. I'll take it off once I bathe. Now, c'mon, I'm starving, and you're taking me to the tavern."

He tended to avoid the tavern. It seemed important for his men to have a place to go where he wouldn't venture, and confined groups of drunken people tended to make him nervous. He thought about explaining this to the Herald, but realized that she would win in the end, and he could save time by just agreeing now.

She let them around the back way to the tavern, picking her way carefully over the rocky slope. When they were out of sight of the Chantry, she paused, stopping him with a hand on his arm. "Cullen, do we need to discuss anything from back there?"

"Um...no?" He was confused by this, it didn't seem like Lady Vivienne or Alinora had said anything particularly controversial.

A thin worry line appeared between her eyebrows. "You and I have never really discussed the war, and I don't want us to have any problems over it. We've only just become friends, you and I, and I don't know if we're up for a rollicking good fight yet."

That made him smile, and he tried to give deeper consideration to her words. "I suppose I thought you would be more in favor of the Mages' freedom. I don't want to bring up old issues, but you did choose to side with them, after all."

"Dammit Cullen." Ali groaned and rubbed her forehead. "I'm going to tell you this, but I'm asking you to think very carefully before you spread this information around and completely obliterate morale among the troops. I didn't go to the Mages because I support them."

"But...why?"

"I went to them because they were too dangerous to leave exposed. The Templars are better able to take care of themselves, but the mages...  They sold themselves to _Tevinter_. If they were corrupted, they could kill every person in Thedas, easily. Templars can be countered with swords in a way that the Mages _can't_. Maybe I should have conscripted them instead of making them allies, but I really didn't want to make even more enemies for us."

_Maker's breath. No wonder she didn't tell us her reasoning. That type of thinking would split Haven right down the middle if it got out. And worst of all, she's right. If the Inquisition is here to protect Thedas, then she absolutely made the good call._

He caught her eye and nodded. "You're right, as usual. Please tell me that going to the tavern was just a pretense for this confession?"

She grinned widely and grabbed his forearm. "Not a chance, boy. You need to meet Sera, and Sera is drinking."

Cullen allowed himself to be towed behind the Herald until they entered the tavern, whereupon she led them to a table in the corner. The table was occupied by a rather grubby looking elf who was studiously trying to work her way through a bowl of stew. As they approached, the elf looked up. "Wotcher Herald. What's this buggery then?" She extended her dagger towards Ali, who barely glanced at the piece of meat speared at the end of it.

"Ram, looks like. Mind if we sit?" Without waiting for an answer Ali plopped down in a chair and reached across the table to grab the bowl out from in front of... _Sera, was it?_

Since her mouth was full of food, Cullen took it upon himself to introduce himself. Still standing, he extended a hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Sera. I've heard excellent things about you."

That wasn't exactly true, but it seemed better than saying, _I heard you were a butt-obsessed nutjob who could shoot the balls off a darkspawn while standing on her head._

Across from him, Sera seemed suspicious. "Fereldan are you? Frigging great. Bet you're common-born as well?"

This made very little sense, and for the life of him, Cullen wasn't sure where that question had come from. "Yes? My father was a farmer, in Honnleath."

Beside him, Alinora was still working her way through the stew, but she did extend one hand towards Sera, who now had a face like a stormcloud. The elf grumpily dropped four coppers into the outstretched hand, and muttered that she was holding back one for the stew.

Understanding dawned on Cullen, and he whirled on Ali. "Did you drag me down here to win a bet?!?"

Ali jumped a little then shushed him. "Sera thinks we have too many nobles around and not enough Fereldens. I bet her otherwise. And then I won, and in thanks, I am going to go get us drinks." Dropping the now-empty bowl, she slipped away through the crowd, leaving Cullen and Sera staring at each other uncertainly.

It would have been rude to walk away, so Cullen seated himself and tried to make conversation. "So, Sera is it? How are you finding the Inquisition?"

Sera looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Didn’t have to find it, did I? Just followed the Herald from Val Royalty straight to this bar.” She cocked her head a little and leaned forward. “Course, that’s what most of us done, innit? We’d all follow her anywhere?”

Something in Sera’s tone made Cullen start blushing. She sounded almost… lecherous. “Um, I suppose so. She’s quite an asset.” He winced, knowing he’d given her a perfect opening.

“Ooh, yes she is an asset. With all of her assets up front and her one round asset we all get to see when we’re following her.” Sera waggled her eyebrows, which only made him blush more. “Admit it you, you think she’s pretty, with her shiny hair and those big green peepers. You’d love to have her curves -”

The Herald spoke from behind him. “Stop it Sera.” Ali plunked down three glasses of beer and another bowl of stew. “You shouldn’t try to cheat, and I’ve told you all, I’m not planning on sleeping with anyone if I know there are bets pending.”

Cullen was sure he was bright red, but he managed to stammer out “Bets?”

Ali passed him a drink and smiled kindly. “Varric has a line on everything, including what I might get up to in my private life. I should have warned you, but I thought you already knew. Apparently the most likely scenario is that I will end up ‘riding the Bull’, but you aren’t far behind.”

A lifetime of blushing had taught Cullen to recover quickly. “Who are the longest odds then?”

“Chancellor Roderick.” she said matter-of factly, which nearly made him choke on his ale.

Across the table, Sera shook her head mournfully. “No takers for that git, and the dwarf gave gorgeous odds. I'm thinking you're right on the money though, eh gov?"

"Sera, no cheating." Ali growled around a mouthful of stew.

"Is not cheatin. Just trying to gather information about my new boss. Tell me Cully, do you like women? Still got all your bits?"

Cullen looked imploringly at the Herald, who shrugged at him in an _out of my hands_ sort of gesture. She nodded to the door, but he couldn't bear the thought of running away from this mouthy elf. He'd spent his whole life being easily flustered, but he'd also spent his whole life in dormitories filled with young men who had nothing better to do than wind each other up. If this crass new addition to their ranks wanted to play, he'd play.

He smiled as charmingly as he could. "Yes and yes. How about you?"

Sera reeled back, clearly amazed that he'd been forthright. "You know it. 'Specially when they've got big bobbies. You got a woman now?"

"No. But I won't sleep with our Herald here just to win a bet. And if anyone tries to win a bet that way, with anyone else, I'll have their head." Surprisingly, the elf seemed entirely satisfied with that answer, and even nodded approvingly at Ali.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. I won't ask how old you are."

"Don't know, do I? How many women you been with?"

"Depends on how you count them up." He paused for a moment, doing some quick math on his fingers. "Fourteen, I think?"

His tankard was empty, so he snagged the Herald's and took a long sip, grimacing when he realized it was filled with barley twilsley. _Ugh, I need to teach her how to drink._  "Anything else you'd like to know?"

"What's that scar on your mouthy-bits? Get caught buggering someone's sweetie?"

 _Excellent. Everyone always asks eventually, and they're never prepared for the answer._ "No. Got kneed in the face. Take it as a cautionary tale, shared between lovers of women. Cunnilingus accidents can happen to anyone."

Next to him, the Herald let out a shocked strangle and started, knocking her stew off the table. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her giggles, while across the table, Sera stared at him like he was made of golden chocolate.

"Ooo, bigjob or not, I like you." Sera grinned at him, and Cullen had the sudden realization that most of the elf's appearance was artifice, and there was a real person buried under all the sarcasm - a real person who had just joined the Inquisition and was currently adrift in a sea of strangers in a strange new world.

Next to him, the Herald gave up on getting herself under control, and darted away from the table, heading towards the door. Cullen watched her go bemusedly, then turned back to Sera. "More drinks?"


	9. Chapter 9

Chancellor Roderick coughed a raspy death rattle that left no doubt of what a short time he had left. Alinora felt a brief stab of guilt at her ill treatment of him before getting distracted by something the strange pale boy was saying.

“He wants the Herald. You took his mages.”

 _They weren’t his mages!_ Ali thought wildly. _They belong to themselves!_

As Chancellor Roderick told them in halting breaths about the summer pilgrimage path, the full weight of the situation began to press down on Ali. She looked around the Chantry at the huddled pilgrims, whose despairing faces raised to her for hope just seemed to further jumble her thoughts.

_I can save them, I can save them all. I can do this and be their hero and be their Herald and all I have do is die._

_… I don’t want to die_

_That isn’t the choice you will die either way you can only choose how. You are going to die tonight there is no way around it you must go through it it’s the only way out._

_… I’m going to die._

Feeling like she’d made a decision, instead of just railing against the inevitable; Ali turned to her companions and outlined the plan swiftly. One by one, they all squeezed her hand and went to do their duties. Leliana and Josephine kissed her on either cheek, and then went to chivy the refugees into some kind of order. Dorian, Cassandra and Varric began to check their weapons, while Blackwall and Solas went hunting for potions to send with them. Sera gave her a quick hug and muttered something about keeping her butt safe from arrows. Bull and the Chargers filed past, every one of them raising a fist to her in a final salute, though Bull refused to meet her eyes. Vivienne only smiled sadly, bowing her head in respect as she helped a woman walk towards the back of the Chantry.

Ali watched them all, and tried to keep her noble shield intact. These refugees had to believe that she was protecting them, even at the last. Finally, she turned towards the Chantry door, knowing who would be waiting.

Cullen stood there, tall and immovable, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched. He stared at her with a mix of horror and hope as she crossed the distance between them.

“I have to be the one to go. I can distract him long enough for everyone to get out.” Alinora gulped rapidly, the mounting adrenaline drying out her throat. Unable to look at him, she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her tears at bay. “You have to take care of them for me.”

She felt his big hands wrap around her head, warming her cold cheeks and ears, and pulling her face towards his. For one wild second, she thought he might kiss her, and thought that might be an okay thing to happen before she went to face her death.

When no kiss came, she opened her eyes and met the intensity of his gaze. “Of course it has to be you. Alinora, I promise you, by Andraste and the Maker, I will get them out.”

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. For a long moment they stood there, his hands gripping her hair, hers resting on his forearms, both of them breathing the same air, before he spoke in a low voice, “Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven.”

He did kiss her then, though it was the kiss of a friend, not a lover. He pressed his mouth to her forehead hard enough that she could feel his teeth through his lips until he released her with a shuddering breath. “Make him hear you, lady.”

She nodded, unable to form words, then ran towards her waiting party. She didn’t stop to think about it, couldn’t take another moment of this building sense of loss. Pulling her magic in closely, she focused on her rage and threw herself out the doors and into the waiting enemy.

*****

Later, looking back at the battle, Ali found that the whole thing had fractured into individual images and stray thoughts.

Cassandra screaming a taunt at a group of red tinged Templars.

_That’s five dead Templars to Varric, but Dorian took down one of those Behemoths so who’s winning? Probably still Cassandra._

Running out of potions and panicking until Varric remembered some more by the Blacksmith’s.

_For all the time calibrating Trebuchets, this thing doesn’t work too well, does it Cullen, you complete dimwit._

Forcing her companions back to the Chantry when the dragon made one pass too many.

_An Ancient Magister? Why is he talking so much! Maker I hope he's lying. What an asshole!_

And then the cold. Everything was cold.


	10. Chapter 10

Ali struggled through the snow, trying to take stock.

_Defeated the Ancient Archdemon and his Scabby Master. Well not defeated exactly, but I didn’t die so I must have won. Managed not to get killed by some creepy shades in that creepy tunnel, so that’s one to me. I haven’t found any corpses, so Cullen is keeping everybody else alive (or else I’m headed in the wrong direction nostopdon'tthinkthatway) everybody else is alive. I maybe have enough magic left to warm up my hands and feet so I don’t get frostbitten._

She stumbled and fell to her knees, sinking deeply into the snow. Somewhere deep down in her belly, the last remnants of her magic flickered and died.

_Oh good, I was wrong about that last part. I'll die of exhaustion first and leave a pretty corpse. They’ll find me in a big block of ice and make me into a pilgrimage stop. Snow isn’t so bad. Starting to feel warm all over. Wish those people would stop yelling. Let me sleep._

_People...yelling?_

She tried to force herself upright, but only managed to get to her knees before flopping back down again. It must have been enough, as the yelling seemed to be getting closer and was now sounding something like cheering.

Suddenly, she was jerked up and pressed against something colder than ice. She flinched away with a yell, and heard Cassandra muttering behind her. “Cullen your armor is freezing. Wrap her first.”

_What is that, itchy, why is there itchy thing? Oh, blanket, Cassandra brought blanket. I love Cassandra._

She must have said this out loud, since Cassandra snorted and Cullen laughed a little. She felt hands slip underneath her as she was lifted up ever-so-gently.

Cracking her eyes open, Ali realized that Cullen was the one who was carrying her. She licked her chapped lips, trying to get them to form words. “You broke your promise, Rutherford.”

*****

Cullen almost dropped her when she spoke again. She was barely conscious, frozen half through and totally exhausted, but she knew who he was. “Twas a false promise.  I will always come for you, my lady.”

Her eyes flickered, and a small smile cracked her lips. “I’m not your lady.”

Cullen readjusted his grip slightly, trying not to jostle her as they climbed up the hill towards camp. “Mock me later Magelet. You need to rest now.”

By the time they made it back to camp, the Herald had warmed enough to start shivering violently, but had also lapsed fully into unconsciousness, and Cullen was having a hard time holding on to her. Despite that, he steadfastly refused to let anyone else carry her.

Unable to help otherwise, Cassandra had run ahead of him to alert everyone to the Herald’s survival. To Cullen’s intense relief, she had also gotten Josephine and Leliana to start preparing for the arrival of one half frozen near-martyr. As he entered camp, he was swarmed by people wanting to know the status of their Herald, but Bull and the Chargers quickly surrounded him to help clear a path.

They led him to a small tent that was erected close to the Healer’s pavilion. He pushed inside, and groaned at the feel of heat on his face.

“Why Commander, I had no idea you knew how to make noises like that,” came a voice from below. “What would I have to do to get you to make it again?”

Cullen looked down to see Dorian smirking at him from his prone position on a cot where he was lying flat on his back, shirt off and arms akimbo. Cullen realized that all the heat in the room was rolling off the Mage in waves, warming the tent even better than a fire would have.

“Don’t be tiresome Dorian, and made some space,” Leliana ordered from the other side of the tent. He pouted at her, but dutifully slid over.  Cullen lay the unconscious Herald down in the now vacated space, whereupon she immediately rolled towards the heat coming off Dorian.

“Good God man, she’s freezing. If I have to be in bed with a woman, can’t she at least be naked?”

Leliana rolled her eyes but stepped forward to start stripping the Herald of her frozen garments. Cullen felt very strongly that he should not stay for this, so he cleared his throat meaningfully.

“Umm.. Shall I fetch you some firewood? Or a brazier?”

Dorian looked up with eyes that were suspiciously full of knowledge and understanding. “We can’t spare the fuel Commander, which is why I’ll be playing the part of a one-man furnace. You really needn't worry - at the moment I'm just like one of the girls.”

Leliana spoke without turning, still methodically trying to undo the frozen buckles of the Herald’s coat. “You got her here safely Cullen. The rest is just up to time. Go and get your rest, you’ve earned it. We’ll let you know if there are any changes.”

He nodded at the back of her head and left the tent. Outside, The Iron Bull had settled himself next to the entrance. “Relax Commander. I’ll keep track of the Boss and her girls. Anyone who wants to bother them will have to go through me.”

Cullen clapped the Qunari’s shoulder as he walked past. “Good man.”

*****

Cullen was sure that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but to his great surprise, he nodded off as soon as his head hit the sack he had scrounged for a pillow. It felt like he had just closed his eyes when he was awoken by the sudden sense of someone near.

At first, he thought a monster was looming over him, but he quickly realized that it was just the outline of the ridiculous hat worn by that odd new boy, Cole.

Cole was kneeling on his haunches rocking back and forth a little. He didn’t look at Cullen, but muttered quietly. “No one told her endings aren’t coming yet. Dreaming isn’t waking, but she thinks it’s the other. The cold is in her blood and in her bones and she wants to get it out.”

Rubbing his eyes, Cullen tried to focus. “What? I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Cole looked a little frustrated, but leaned in closer. When his nose almost touched Cullen’s, he took a deep breath and said simply, “Fire comes back.”

Cullen had a sudden flash of understanding, and leapt to his feet. He didn’t take the time to put his armor on, just shoved his feet into boots and took off across camp, thanking his lucky stars that he’d slept in his cloak.

The camp was very quiet - everyone was asleep save for the guards on watch, who were all directing their attention outside the perimeter, so no one took notice of his sprint towards the Herald’s tent. He was almost there when he saw a flash of flame from inside, and heard Dorian’s strangled yell.

Bull wasn’t quite dozing out front, but it still took a second for him to react, giving Cullen time to dodge around him and get into the tent. It was bad in there, but not as bad as he had feared. Dorian had tumbled to the ground, a huge burn on his chest, clearly caused by the fire coming out of the Herald’s right hand. Just then her feet burst into flames, igniting the bedclothes.

Cullen reacted instantly - he threw a Purge across the whole tent and quickly beat out the flames on the bed. The fire on her body went out, but the Herald didn’t react. She was unconscious but not still, her shivers unabated.

Dorian made a gasping noise, and Cullen realized that the Purge had cut out the heat spells he was using rather abruptly. He stepped over and helped the mage to his feet, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. By now Bull had worked himself partway into the tent and was quite obviously worried about what had happened.

To his surprise, it was Dorian who explained things. “She must have been warming her hands and feet when she ran out of juice. She is starting to recover her magical energies but still casting the spell from before. She’s liable to burn down the whole camp if this keeps up.”

Cullen shook his head. “No, I can keep her under control with a Silence, but you can’t be here for it.”

Bull looked like he wanted to object, but Dorian interrupted. “He’s right. Even if you aren’t a mage, being under a Silence is a very disconcerting feeling. We’ll still need to keep her warm though. Can Cassandra help?”

Bull shook his head no. “Doesn’t matter. She’s been dealing with the rebel mages. I don’t think we can pull her out of there without some serious problems - like much worse than this problems.”

Cullen didn’t care about the other mages, but didn’t want to take the time to argue. They had to get the Herald warm again, and _fast_. “Get Varric. He won’t be affected the same way - the Silence affects your connection with the Fade and he doesn’t have one. And get Dorian out of here before he pukes in the tent.”

The two men left the tent as quickly as Bull’s bulk would allow. Cullen pulled a chair over to the head of the Herald’s bed and sat down, smoothing her hair back and cooing at her like he would a skittish horse. “Okay sweetheart, let’s see what kind of shape you’re in.” Though he was no Healer, Cullen had spent plenty of winters in Ferelden, and knew how to check for some of the danger signs of exposure to the cold.

He tried to ignore how much she looked like death. Her skin was bone white, and her lips were almost as pale. Leliana had wiped her face, taking off the remains of the heavy kohl she was so fond of, and her face looked bare and exposed without it. Her brow was furrowed, and her heavy black lashes flickered wildly for a moment. Cullen tried to smooth the lines from her forehead with this thumb, surprised at how cold her face still was. Concerned, he slipped a hand under her back, where thankfully it seemed her skin was starting to warm a little.

He could feel her mana stirring again, so he laid as gentle of a Silence as possible inside the tent. It was a struggle to keep it as soft as he wanted it to be. Silences were designed to cripple mages, to sap their strength and keep them helpless. They also kept sound from escaping the affected area, ostensibly to protect any sensitive information gleaned from an interrogation. Cullen knew that there were far more nefarious reasons that Templars didn’t want Mages to be overheard while incapacitated, but he refused to think about them right now.

He concentrated on keeping her spells suppressed while still allowing her mana to bubble up inside, to refill her so she would not wake exhausted. He had just managed to get the Silence in place when Varric came in.

“Maker’s Breath Curly, what’s going on? No one can come near this tent without their teeth setting on edge.”

“I’ll explain, but get over here and get your shirt off.”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh my my. If I’d know how much you wanted to see my chest hair, you could have just asked.”

With a great sigh, Cullen prayed for patience. It took some concentration to keep the Silence in place once it was cast, and the energy he had left was not quite up to dealing with the dwarf. Quickly, he outlined the situation. Thankfully, Varric understood why he had to be the one to help, so he disrobed to his breeches and slid under the furs with the Herald, trying to get the most contact without accidentally crushing her.

Cullen tucked them in, feeling oddly paternal about the pair. He added another fur over their feet, but did take one blanket to wrap around his own shoulders. As he sat back down, Varric asked in a subdued voice, “Is she going to be okay?”

_I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know! I don’t know how long she was out there I don’t know what happened in the battle and I don’t know if I could have helped her if I’d stayed - - I should have stayed. I don’t know what we’ll do without her I don’t know how I’ll go on if she dies what if she blames me for not being faster braver stronger. What if she blames me for using a Silence on her what have they been used for before will she ever forgive me what if she never speaks to me again I just want her to wake up and talk to me again!_

But these were thoughts he couldn’t share with Varric, so instead he just said, “Yes of course. The healer looked at her and said she just needs warmth and rest.”

“Well that’s good then. So what, are we just supposed to stare at each other all night?”

Cullen looked down and saw that Varric had pillowed his head on Ali's shoulder and pulled the blankets up around his ears. He looked forlorn, and Cullen realized that the dwarf had had just as long of a night as any of them, but had come dutifully from his bed when called back to service.

Looking around for a distraction, he saw that while Leliana had cleaned the ice from Ali’s hair, it was still wet and tangled through the ends.

“No Varric. You are going to tell me a story and concentrate on being a warm bed partner. I am going to keep this Silence up and I am going to braid Alinora's hair. We are going to be as manly about this as possible, and if either of us gives into worry and starts crying, we will never speak of it again. Like men do.”

Varric chuckled, smiling again. “All right Curly, that sounds like a plan. One manly story coming right up. So no shit, there we were, and Hawke was butt-ass naked except for this frilly hat of Isabela's…”

“Varric...”

“Don't worry, it gets manlier.”


	11. Chapter 11

There was a tradition in parts of the Free Marches, wherein every son received a sword from his father on his thirteenth nameday. Such a gift was formal recognition that boys become men, and sons carry on the legacy of their forefathers. Lord Trevelyan believed in tradition, and believed too in his family. All of his sons accepted their swords with honor, and treated them with utmost care and respect.

The daughters of the Trevelyan family were not so lucky. On her thirteenth nameday, Alinora’s special present was a terribly uncomfortable conversation with her sainted Mother, wherein Mama explained the true cost of being a woman. Despite her menses having come the year before, Ali was left with the vague worry that somehow her womanly duty meant babies would shoot out of her in a river of blood while her husband poked her in the bellybutton with a pork sausage. Two days later her eldest sister found her crying in the privy, and thoughtfully explained the real way sex and babies worked.

All in all, it had seemed terribly unfair that she hadn’t gotten a sword like her brothers, but she comforted herself that Bragi was less than a year younger than her, and it seemed likely that he would share his, like they shared all things. By the time his name day came though, Ali had manifested and was whisked off to the circle, still unarmed and unmarried.

Now, years later and hundreds of miles away, Ali lurked in a quiet corner of the battlements and contemplated the sword she held - a sword she could finally call her own. It seemed longer than the swords carried by soldiers - it was certainly heavy enough. She didn’t know anything about arms or armor, but if shininess equated to craftsmanship, it was well made.

She _hated_ it.

Presented in the courtyard of her very own fortress, it marked her as the Inquisitor - a title whose scope was yet to be determined. She'd awoken after her flight from Haven and followed Solas's advice to find Skyhold. Along the way, she'd considered her options and come up with a plan. Once everyone was safe, she would take a horse and supplies and head out across Fereldan, dealing with the rifts as she found them. The Inquisition would continue without her, and she would be free of responsibility save for what she owed the Anchor on her hand.

Of course, no one had given her a moment to explain this before she'd been tricked onto the battlements and ambushed. As soon as she realized what was happening, she’d slammed her manners into place and tried to remain graciously humble about the great honor they’d just bestowed on her, while frantically looking for a way to decline the title of Inquisitor. No such opportunity had presented itself, and Leliana had pressed the sword into her hands and made her raise it to the cheering of the crowd.

That had been hours ago, and this was the first moment she’d had alone since then. Getting Skyhold up and running was an enormous task, and the Inquisition was low on bodies at the moment. She’d been everywhere today; moving rubble with Cullen’s soldiers, signing letters for Josephine and helping Leliana do an inventory of her remaining supplies.

Throughout all of it, she’d hauled the damn sword around with her. She’d tried to leave it behind, but Josephine had admonished her quite loudly, explaining that _her people_ needed to see her carrying it around their new home, and nevermind the fact that carrying a naked sword was a recipe for accidental cuts, and tripping yourself at inopportune moments, both of which she'd done several times.

Now, thankfully, she had a moment to rest. She’d slipped away when Leliana was distracted by a raven, and was resting (hiding) behind a short wall. Checking that no one was around, she bent at the waist, trying to stretch her absurdly sore legs. Groaning as her muscles loosened, she straightened up and shook her shoulders. Time to deal with the sword.

She was wearing her usual (only) outfit of long coat belted over breeches. With great care, she tucked the sword through her belt, catching the pommel on her buckle. It seemed secure, so she gave a careful swish with her hips. It stayed steady, so she tried some larger movements, ending with a twirl, whereupon the blighted sword immediately fell from her belt and on one of her aching feet.

"Stupid _bastard_ sword!" She bent to retrieve it and heard a recognizable chuckle from behind her. Grimacing, she turned to face one of the last people she’d hoped would find her.

“What do you want _now,_ Cullen?” She asked wearily.

He had a chair in each hand and a sack over each shoulder, which distracted him enough to miss the tone of her voice. “You look ridiculous. Don’t you know you can’t hold a sword like that?”

“Really?” The headache she’d been dodging was settling in around her eyes, which, combined with Cullen’s glibness was making her very angry, very quickly. “Why exactly would I know that? Should I have learned swordplay as a noblewoman, or as a Circle Mage? Exactly how perfect do I have to be to satisfy you people? Maker’s balls, Cullen, I can’t deal with you right now.”

She moved to push past him, but he dropped one of the chairs he held and grabbed her sleeve, stopping her progress. She stilled, but refused to look at him.

“Hey now, lady, I didn’t mean to make fun. Just wait a moment, and I’ll get this sorted.”  He set down his other chair, then shrugged out of his surcoat and pulled off his sword belt. Moving in front of her, he wrapped the strip of leather over her shoulder and buckled it across her chest, carefully avoiding her breasts.

Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “I hate this fucking bastard sword.”

He smiled and laughed at that, a gentler kinder version of his mirth from before. “Well, yes, it is a bastard sword. Which is why my belt should fit it.”  Carefully, he pried her hand off said sword and slid it home across her back.

“There, that should help keep it out of your way. You only need to wear it until tomorrow - I’ll get my belt back in the morning.” When she didn’t move or speak, he ducked his head down to meet her gaze. “Ali, are you all right?”

Ali wanted to burst into tears and fall forward, to let him catch her and tell her everything would be okay. She wanted to do it, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t trust him with her thoughts and fears right now. None of them were trustworthy, not so soon after this new turn of events. She tried to keep her mannered composure, tried to keep her shoulders back, eyes up, hands still, jaw relaxed, breathing even . . . but failed at the last and a tiny sob escaped her mouth.

Cursing her weakness, she stepped back from the man in front of her, removing the temptation of his comfort. “It doesn’t factor. Thank you for your help, Commander.”

Confusion was writ across his face and he reached out to her. “Ali, whatever it is, let's talk about it…”

“No.” Her smile was twisted and joyless, but she couldn’t find a better one. “You didn’t talk to me before, so you don’t get to talk to me now.” He flinched, almost like she’d tried to hit him, and she took some pleasure in the fact that she could hurt him at all like he’d hurt her. “All of you are here because you chose to be, but I have never had that same choice. I was a prisoner, but I did what had to be done, and nearly died in the process. You knew that and still you didn’t speak to me, didn’t ask me if this was something I wanted.”

She advanced on him, cornering him back to where she’d been hiding before. All her feelings was simmering to the surface, all her fears and dashed hopes coming out in a muddle of red rage that she couldn’t help but vent at this, her false friend and selfish Commander.

"I have never had a choice, not in my whole life, about where to go or what I'd do. Be a good daughter Alinora. Mind your manners Alinora. Learn to be a useful wife Alinora. Listen to the Templars Alinora. For the first time, I thought I could chose what ground would be under my feet. My feet, in my shoes, going where I wanted to go!"

He was staring at her in horror as her words unfolded, though to his credit he managed not to flinch away from her rage.

"Do you know why I was at the Conclave? The real reason? I joined with that delegation because I had nowhere else to go! I thought my brothers would be there and I thought they might help me get home. That’s all I wanted Cullen, to go home, but instead you found a way to put me back in a cage!"

Ali felt like she was flying apart into tiny pieces, like giving voice to her inner demons was pulling at her skin and making it crawl. Her final burst of righteousness spent, she felt a cool sort of emptiness spread over her. With no small effort, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down.

Opening her eyes, she saw the guilt streaked across Cullen's face. He reached out for her, but she stepped away.

"Lady, I'm so sorry -"

The thought of listening to him apologize made her want to scream, so she stepped further back. Her voice was icy and her chin was high. "There is no need Commander. What's done is done, and the only way through this is to move forward. Don't worry, you won't hear me complain about this again."

Before he could say anything, she was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to say this after such a bummer chapter, but I have houseguests coming and probably can't post a chapter tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

Despite what Varric had promised, Hawke knew very little about Corypheus. Still, Ali appreciated his visit to Skyhold, especially since he risked invoking the wrath of Cassandra.

Hawke was impressed with the fortress, and asked for a place to see the lay of the land, so they walked from the battlements to the top of one of the towers. While there were plans to outfit it as a home for the mages, it was still structurally unsound and unoccupied - but most importantly, private.

He took his time strolling around the tower, checking out the approaches from various angles and examining the scar in the sky. Ali, not wanting to waste a chance at a rest, sat against the battlements, stretching her sore muscles. Sitting atop the tower was quiet and peaceful, and it was a blessing to be out of the way from everything for a moment. There was always too much to do, both in Skyhold and on the road, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to just be idle for a moment.

She kept an eye on Hawke as he paced, trying to match this man up against the description in Varric's tales. He was tall and broad shouldered, making the daggers on his back look almost dainty by comparison. His armor was well worn, but it was quality stuff and didn't look shabby. The rest of him, on the other hand - well, it had clearly been a long time since he'd been off the road. His beard was looking quite overgrown, and his hair had grown long enough to tangle in the wind. As Ali watched, he swept it up, and in a practiced gesture, knotted it into a bun.

Seeing her watching, he sprawled down next to her with a laugh.

"Lovely place you have here, Inquisitor. You're well set up for the inevitable hordes of rampaging Qunari."

"Those are your problems, Champion. Mine run more towards maniac Templars and rabid bears." Ali nudged him with a shoulder. Hawke was a turning out to be a refreshing change of pace. He wasn't quite as funny as Varric portrayed him, but he had a way about him that put her right at ease.

He pulled his daggers out of their sheaths and laid them beside him. At her questioning look, he shrugged. "I think we're safe enough up here, and I can't get comfortable with them on." He seemed to hesitate for a minute, but continued. "This is really a good place you have. And from what I can tell, you're the one responsible for it all."

Ali's good mood evaporated. What was he trying to get at? Coolly, she eyed Hawke, who looked the picture of innocence. Cullen had tried to speak to her about her outburst a few times, but gave it up when he got no response. She didn’t think he would have gone to Hawke about it, but wasn’t willing to discount the possibility. "Have you been talking to Cullen?"

Based on his look of surprise, he hadn't been expecting that. "No, not really. Should I be?"

She shook her head, trying to take it back. "No no, I just had a disagreement with him a few weeks ago. I thought you were going to argue his side. Dinna fash."

Hawke nodded. "Well, if it helps, tell him that I'm on your side just on principle alone. Although... Alinora, is there anything wrong?"

"Is there anything wrong?" She turned to him in wonder. "Is there anything wrong?" She started to giggle, which turned into a laugh as his eyes widened at what he'd just asked. "Where would you like me to start?!?"

Hawke was laughing too, bent almost double over his legs and pounding on the stone with a fist. Sitting up, he wiped his eyes. "Maker, I'm sorry. People used to ask me that and... well, it’s a stupid question. How about this - aside from the end of the world, the looming possibility of death, and the seeping loneliness, is there anything else wrong?"

Ali swallowed heavily. A lump was forming in her throat, and to her shame, she felt tears spring to her eyes. She started to get up, but Hawke reached up and pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She had an intense flash of being held by her brother Robis, and remembered that Hawke was a big brother himself.

"So it’s the loneliness then? I thought as much." His voice was matter of fact, and he didn't seem overly invested in trying to comfort her as she tried to stop crying. "That was the hardest part for me, after I lost Bethany to the Wardens. I had my friends, and my Mother, but I couldn't really talk to any of them. Everyone was looking to me to solve their problems, and there were days when I would have licked the floor of the Hanged Man if it meant they would leave me alone."

Tears under control, Ali peeped up at him. "But you had Isabela."

"Aye." He released her, but kept one arm over her shoulders. "But that was complicated for a long time. We didn't work it out until well after the Qunari thing, and I was alone for a long time. Is it so bad then?”

Ali struggled to put her feelings into words. “Yes… no… Maker I don’t know. I’m just so tired of all of this. I had friends in the Circle who wanted to go out into the world and slay dragons and be heroes, but that was never for me. I practiced small, domestic magics, not calling fire from the heavens. I was the girl who you asked to knit a hat, or bake a cake. I liked kissing boys and telling stories at night by the fire. I knew who I was there.”

“And now…” Hawke prompted.

Ali lifted her hand, watching the Anchor pulse with her heartbeat. “Now I am this. I’m not me anymore, not anywhere outside my own head. I am tasked with a thousand souls, out here I have to be the Herald all the time. I literally fell into it, and no one asked for my permission. This is my life now.”

Hawke nodded in understanding. “Do you have anyone to talk to about this?”

“No, I don’t think so. They’re all looking to me for answers, and I’m their boss. I love them all, but they can’t understand. Cullen is the closest thing I have to a peer, and I thought he might piss himself when I had a go at him about it. I don’t have the option of telling them that I have doubts or I'm scared, or lonely or tired. But it will be okay, right? It has to be. Someday this will be over, and I’ll be dead, and I can finally rest. I’d just like to kiss a pretty boy one more time.”

“I remember the feeling, lass.” Hawke pulled back and reached for his daggers. “If it gets to be too much, just remember that I got through it, and so did the Lady Cousland, and damned if you'll let a couple of Fereldens do better than you."

She chuckled, but didn't dispute it. "Maybe when all this is done, we can all have a chat. The Warden, The Champion and The Inquisitor will all walk into a bar, and Varric's head will explode from all the possibilities."

"Sounds about right. Consider it a date." He stood, and slid his daggers home in one smooth motion. He nodded towards the ladder, and they started their descent into the tower.

Hawke went down first, and was waiting at the bottom of the ladder when she arrived. He stopped her one rung from the ground when her face was level with his. Carefully, he gripped the ladder around her, boxing her in.

"You're right, Inquisitor, I have people, and the Hero had Alistair, and you have no one." His eyes bored into hers and his jaw tightened. "Isabela will understand."

Alinora knew what was coming, and welcomed it. As Hawke leaned forward, she pushed away from the ladder and met him halfway, lips crushing against his. One hand slid around the back of his neck, while his fingers skittered across her lower back, pulling her to him. She tilted her head to the side, getting a better angle as he slid his tongue into her mouth, and her fingers tightened in the roots of his hair.

During her time in the Circle, Alinora had kissed lots of people. Sometimes it was out of passion, sometimes to tease but most often just to have a bit of fun. Hawke’s kiss was a new kind of feeling. His warm mouth worked comfortingly over hers, and she had a sudden sense memory of the beach near her childhood home, and the slow steady thrumming of the waves on a warm night, constant and soothing just outside her bedroom.

Just as she was starting to get light headed from not breathing, Hawke released her lips but kept his face close to hers. "Inquisitor, I-"

Ali smiled - she knew what he was going to say. "You don't need to explain. That was a gift, freely given, and I thank you for it."

Hawke's eyes shone, and he moved away towards the door. "You will be kissed again, my lady, and not by me. That was just to tide you over."

As they stepped out of the shadowy tower, Ali had a brief pang of regret that the afternoon was drawing to a close. She'd managed, for a few blessed moments, to feel something like optimism about the future. Now, as she made her way across the courtyard, the chill of Skyhold stole back the warmth from Hawke's hands. She felt the yoke of responsibility settle back on her shoulders, and she steeled herself to carry her burdens.


	13. Chapter 13

Cullen sat at his desk, trying to organize his soldiers. The first few weeks at Skyhold had been dedicated to getting the place habitable, but it was time for him to decide what the permanent arrangement of patrols would be.

What was that noise? A very faint scuffling sound interrupted his thoughts, and the sudden prickling sensation on the back of his neck was the only other warning he had of the man that was suddenly looming behind him.

Acting on years of finely honed instincts, Cullen reached around and grabbed the man’s throat, hauling him forward and slamming his head down on the desk. It took less than a second before he realized who he’d grabbed and loosened his hold.  

“Hawke.”

“Rutherford. I’d forgotten how fast you are.” Hawke straightened and took a step back, though he managed to make it look less like a retreat and more like a casual gesture as he sprawled onto a bench.

Cullen seated himself, sighing internally. He liked Hawke well enough, always had. He was a good fighter, cool and capable under pressure, and utterly unflapped by all the twists his life had taken. Still, seeing the man dredged up memories better left buried. Even the sidelong reference to the last time the rogue had seen him move quickly was enough to bring a sour taste to his mouth. Still, that was no fault of Hawke’s, who had done everything possible to prevent the disaster that befell Kirkwall.

_Unlike me. I didn’t do anything to stop it until the bitter end._

Shaking off the memories, Cullen leaned back and raised an eyebrow at the man across from him. “Any particular reason you broke into my office, or did you just come to check up on me?”

“I am glad to see you doing well, but I … well I’m not entirely sure that I should be talking to you about this.” For the first time Cullen could remember, Hawke seemed a little unsure of what to say.

Cullen could feel a headache coming on, and reached below his desk for a bottle and two glasses. “This is about the Inquisitor, isn’t it? What's going on?”

Hawke looked grateful for the prompt. “From what I gather, nothing you aren’t aware of.” He took a deep breath and looked skyward, steeling himself. “What is she to you?”

That was not the question he’d been expecting, and Cullen’s eyebrows rose as he poured them each a measure of liquor. “The Inquisitor? She is a friend, and my superior officer.”

Hawke accepted the drink and took a small sip. “But are you her man?”

It took a lot of effort to keep his face blank, but Cullen thought he managed not to react to his abrupt question. “I’m sorry, are you asking me if I’m in love with the Inquisitor? Because I would have thought that Varric had already gotten your bet on that.”

He gave a brief smile, but wasn’t sidetracked. “I don’t give a wet fart if you love her or not. Love has nothing to do with this. I’m asking if you are her _man_.”

Seeing that he wasn’t making his point, Hawke stood and started pacing. “You remember my sister Bethany, right? How she became infected in the Deep Roads, and didn’t have any choice but to become a Warden?”

Cullen nodded, but didn’t speak, not understanding what the hell Bethany and the Inquisitor had in common.

“When we got back from the expedition, everything was a mess. Mother couldn’t even look at me without crying, and all my friends were scattered all over Kirkwall dealing with their own problems. I could feel myself hollowing out on the inside, like I was becoming a ghost story in my own life.”

The Champion’s return from the Deep Roads had reached mythic proportions thanks to Varric’s book, but Cullen did have a vague recollection of a few altercations with a drunken and angry  Hawke from that time period. It was starting to be clear why he was telling him all of this.

“So what happened? You found yourself a man?” He tried to make light of it, but his voice was worried.

Hawke shook his head, something almost wistful on his face. “No. I found an Aveline.” Noticing his glass was empty, he sat down at the desk to refill it. “My Mother petitioned the Viscount for the Amell estate, but it was a mess, and we couldn't move in until we'd cleaned and furnished the place. I kept talking about doing it, but everything just seemed like it would take so much energy, so I just... didn't. One day, Aveline asked me to meet her on her Hightown patrol. When I did, she didn’t really say anything, just shoved me into the house and handed me a broom. A few hours later, everybody else started showing up to help. She made Varric pump his contacts so we could buy furniture on the cheap, and she got Fenris to kill all the rats in the walls and Merrill took care of the garden.”

“I still don’t really understand where you’re going with this.”

Hawke rubbed at his forehead. “The same thing happened when Mother died. Everyone kept saying how sorry they were, and that helped - a little. Aveline did that too, but she also made sure to spar with me every day before she went to the barracks. She went out of her way to get Varric telling the best stories, or to get Isabela riled up before we left for the evening.”

Cullen blushed at the last statement, remembering all too well what Isabela was like when she got angry. “So Aveline was your, what, best friend?”

“No, Varric is my best friend, and Isabela is the woman I love, and Merrill is like another sibling. Aveline is my - bulwark, anchor, refuge, whatever you want to call it doesn’t matter. For a little while there, she was my shield from the world, and she was the wall that was always at my back, holding me up. That's what I mean when I ask if you are the Inquisitor's man. Are you?"

The two men stared at each other for a long moment while Cullen tried to find the words he needed to articulate his thoughts. Finally he decided to go with honesty and muttered, "I don't think I'm the one to be talking to."

Hawke huffed, a thoroughly sarcastic sound that made Cullen seriously consider throwing something at him. "That's nugshit Commander, and you know it. I know all about your past - yes even the parts in Kinloch Hold. Anders heard it from the Queen, and he had a big mouth. You didn’t fix it in Kirkwall. You stood by and followed orders instead of stepping up. I know that it still… haunts you, so don’t do that again."

"You think it's that easy?"

"Dread Wolf take you!" Hawke stood and slammed a fist down on the desk, his ineffable cool finally starting to slip. "She is drowning! I know she won't talk about it, and I know she puts on a brave face, but right now, she needs someone to be her light in the darkness. I know what she is feeling but she isn't mine to worry about. You have to be the guy! Don’t sit and worry about it, don’t talk about it, just fix it!"

“But –“

“No.” Hawke didn’t let him object. “If she is yours to protect, then you nut up and you fix this.”

"All right."

"Huh, wha?" Hawke had clearly been expecting more arguing, and it took him a moment to change gears.

"You're right." Cullen said matter-of-factly. "She isn't okay, and talking won't fix it. I'll find another way to let her know that she is... cared for."

Hawke grinned and rocked back on his heels. "Good. I should probably tell you that she and I..."

"You what?" Cullen prompted when Hawke didn't finish his thought.

Clearing his throat, Hawke said easily, "Nothing. We have a lot in common, is all. Take care, Cullen." He grinned again, gave a casual salute and headed for the door.

"Hey Garrett," Cullen called, returning the grin. "Don't be a stranger, man. I'll protect you from Cassandra."

*****

Three hours later, Cullen wandered to the Great Hall for dinner, still mulling over Hawke’s words. Once the Champion had made his point, Cullen was able to agree with him about the need for intercession on the Inquisitor’s behalf. The only problem was, Cullen had no idea where to even start.

He hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her on their way to Skyhold. She’d been leading them with Solas, but he’d been right in the thick of things, keeping the pilgrims and supplies accounted for. They’d exchanged some brief words, but aside from one heartfelt thanking for saving her from the snow, all their hurried interactions were about Inquisition business.

He’d been blindsided that day on the ramparts when she’d unleashed her fury and hurt. Later, when he spoke to Leliana and Josephine about it, they’d all been sick with the realization that they hadn’t ever asked her about her plans for the future.

The day after their confrontation, she’d dropped by his office to return his sword belt. When he tried to apologize, she’d just looked at him blankly, and in her politest, most clipped tones, had assured him that _Everything is fine, Commander._ He soon learned that that was her new line of defense, and no matter how he tried to bring up the subject, it would be her only response.

She hadn’t broken down again, or lost her temper, or let her work for the Inquisition slide in any way. Instead, she was eating less and drinking more wine. Her smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes, and she was a second later laughing at jokes. She was the first to rise in the morning, and the last to call it a night, and in between she spent hours dealing with all manner of emergencies. She was polite as always, but didn’t flirt with Bull like she used to, and even Sera couldn’t get her to react to ribald comments. Cullen didn’t think she was broken, exactly, but she was starting to lose herself to the role she had to play.

As he watched her eat dinner that night, he tried to keep an eye on her companions as well.  He noticed how Dorian made sure to keep her wine glass full, and Vivienne gave her the choicest portions of all the dishes. Cole hovered around the periphery, once catching her dropped napkin before it could touch the floor. Cullen smiled to himself, realizing that everyone here was as concerned as he was.

None of it seemed to matter.  Ali just picked at her dinner, staying silent and eating almost nothing. Finally, she pushed her plate away and stood. “Leliana, Cullen, Josephine? If you would please join me in the War Room, I’d like to discuss our next steps.” Without waiting for the answer, she left the table and headed for the door, dodging around an Orlesian courtier who moved to intercept her.

Once they’d assembled, Ali outlined her plan. “I need to be in Crestwood two weeks from now, so I have a bit of time. Tomorrow morning, Cassandra and I are leaving for Caer Oswin. I thought to take Varric and Solas as well. From there, they will head back to Skyhold and I will meet Bull, Blackwall and Sera in Crestwood to meet with my contact. Agreed?”

Across the table, Josephine piped up. “My lady, will you not return home with your party? We will surely have matters you’ll need to attend to.”

Alinora’s shoulders slumped. “I thought to cut down my own travel time, but if you feel it is important -”

“No!” Cullen realized his interjection was abrupt, but he didn’t care. Josie shot him a look, so he kicked her leg gently. “Ravens will be sufficient. What information are you planning on gathering?”

Ali flipped through the stack of papers in front of her, and slumped even further when she didn’t find whatever she needed. “Oh, piss and spite. I don’t have it.” She turned towards the door with a look of such exhaustion that Cullen couldn’t help but stop her. “Lady, what do you need? I’ll run and grab it for you.”

She didn’t smile, but she did meet his eyes, which felt like something close to victory. “I left a black leather document folder on my desk. It has some initial reports on Crestwood that we need to review.”

Cullen nodded at her before heading for her room. As he entered the hall, the same Orlesian courtier lept up, before sinking back down when he realized the Inquisitor was still in council. As Cullen headed up the stairs to her room, he realized that Ali must get accosted by supplicants all the time, and that probably factored into her hesitancy to run this errand herself.

He’d been in her room in Haven, but never in Skyhold. He’d expected it would be similar - full of homelike touches and designed for comfort. He was shocked when he reached the top and realized that very little attention had been paid to her quarters as they began their renovations. True, he’d steadfastly refused resources to fix the hole in his roof, but the Inquisitor surely deserved something more than this. As he stood in the sparsely furnished, freezing cold room, snatches of conversations floated through his memory.

_Everything I owned was destroyed in the explosion, so this is all on loan._

_I was as happy as possible under the circumstances._

_I have never had a choice, not in my whole life, about where to go or what I'd do._

_My feet, in my shoes, going where I wanted to go!_

_That’s all I wanted Cullen, to go home._

With a sudden flash of insight, Cullen knew. He knew exactly what he could do to give her some peace, to let her know that she was beloved by her friends, and that she could find a home with them. Snatching the folder off her desk, he hummed as he headed back to the War Room. He needed her to leave straight away, to get out of Skyhold so he would have a chance to fix this.


	14. Chapter 14

Three days after they left Crestwood, the top of Skyhold’s main tower finally came into view over the next rise. Alinora remembered all the times her heart had lifted at the sight of the fortress, and noted with cold disinterest how little she cared this time. She had been gone nearly six weeks, unable to leave until certain that the undead were all dealt with and the village was safe.

_A month and a half of requisitions, approvals and emergencies all waiting for my attention. At least I can comb and dry my hair properly.  Sera’s offer to cut it all off is starting to sound appealing, and we can’t have the almighty Inquisitor looking like some common street urchin, or the noble will see a weakness they can exploit and -_

Ali forcibly halted that stream of thought, and swallowed heavily. She couldn’t afford to indulge thoughts like that, so she shoved the grievance down further into a dark pit of emotion that she tried hard to ignore. There were times that she could almost picture it - a pulsing darkness just below her breastbone that pulled at her and promised that _this is your life now will never end_ _they will take all of leave you in dust._

The rest of her party didn’t notice the sorry state of their Inquisitor. As they rode closer to Skyhold, Sera shouted a mocking challenge to Bull, and they took off at a gallop, her tiny pony keeping pace with his enormous draft horse. Beside her, Blackwall scowled at their antics, but quickened his own pace, clearly in a rush to get back to the serenity of the stables.

Just through the main gates, the usual crowd of well-wishers had gathered to welcome her back to Skyhold. _Well, they aren’t here to welcome me_ , Ali thought bitterly. _They want to see the Inquisitor, to make sure they still have their own personal human shield_. Another thought to shove down into that dark pit.

As she dismounted and passed her horse to the stable boy, she saw her three advisors waiting on the front steps of the keep. She cursed under her breath, wondering what fresh hell could have meant that all three of them needed to speak to her so damn immediately. Had they even taken the time to look at the reports she had sent ahead only hours before? She sighed, burying that thought as well. With no small effort, she pulled the saddlebags off her horse and slung them over her shoulder. Gripping her staff with white knuckles, she plastered a smile on her face and forced her legs into an exhausted trot across the courtyard and up the stairs.

“Well met, lady,” Cullen bowed as she came up the stairs. Leliana and Josephine dipped their heads as well, a formal greeting for the benefit of all the people watching from below.

Ali smiled at them, trying to put some genuine feeling behind it. “Well met, friends. I know we have much to talk about, so shall we meet in the War Room in a few minutes?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully in Leliana’s direction, hoping her spymaster was cunning enough to catch the plea for a few moments of privacy.

But it was Josephine who spoke. “My lady, I am sorry, but there is no time for that. There is an urgent matter that we must discuss. It is of the utmost importance and simply cannot wait.”

_Utmost importance my ass it is. They can deal with things while I crawl through festering darkspawn corpses but now they’re helpless? I wonder if they would even let me stop at a privy first - no, they would probably just talk at me through the door. The Inquisitor is supposed to be above such base things as having a pee._

Opening the doors to the War Room, she noticed that the work crews had been restoring the walls, finally attending to some of the gaping holes in the stone. Ali cocked her head, a brief feeling of curiosity flashing within her. There was a new door in that wall would lead right to the staircase leading to her quarters. The dark pit in her stomach swallowed her curiosity as she realized the possible ramifications of increased access to her quarters.

_Maker's nutsack, they'll be after me all night with requests and emergencies. I don't get enough sleep as it is!_

She rounded on her advisors with an upturned eyebrow, trying to hide her resignation behind a mask of joviality. “Leliana, are you trying to sneak into my quarters at night? Because I think a certain Crow would take umbrage with that.”

The spymaster smiled, “I doubt he would, but no. That does tie in with what we needed to talk to you about. Josephine?”

The diplomat jumped in, “We have noticed, that when you leave your quarters for the War Room, you are often sidetracked by people in the Great Hall. They seem to think that if you have been in your room, you cannot be busy with anything of importance and they can petition you at once. Isn’t that right Cullen?”

“Oh, um, right. It was felt that you were wasting valuable time when you could be working on Inquisition business, and that it would be beneficial to have more access to you at night.” Cullen stopped abruptly, as he replayed what he just said. He opened his mouth as if to clarify, then seemed to give it up for a lost cause. “You know what I mean.”

Leliana snickered at that, and reached forward to hand a file to Ali. “There is quite a lot for you to review, but everything except this is in your room. We three have some things to complete before dinner, so we will be down here for a while. Your presence has been requested at dinner by the seventh bell.”

Ali nearly sagged with under the confirmation that there would be no respite from work, but politely thanked her advisors for their time, and dutifully told them she would entertain their noble guests at dinner. As she trudged through the new door and up the stairs to her room, she could feel her exhaustion crawling through her bones like a living thing.

_Like Red Lyrium._

Shaking off _that_ horrible thought, Ali wondered if she could fit in a catnap before she looked at the reports. As she came to the top landing, she put her staff on the hooks and turned into her room, where it took a moment for her brain to catch up with what her eyes were seeing.

When she left Skyhold last, her room was a perfectly adequate place to sleep. True, the mural over her bed was hideous, and true, Northern winds had a tendency to gust straight through the windows, but it had been sufficient for the few hours a night she spent there.

There was nothing at all _sufficient_ about this new space, which seemed to be a riot of color and texture. Three of the walls were covered in swirling murals, with flowers and vines intertwining in soothing patterns. Her old bed was gone, and had been replaced with one piled so high with pillows and blankets that she felt more rested just looking at it. Her desk was cleared of all the various reports and bits of business that had piled up over the last few months, and now only had a neat stack of well-thumbed novels, with a seashell sitting incongruously on top of the pile.

The thin rugs that used to cover the floor were gone, and had been replaced by a thick layer of warm fur.  The windows were now draped in soft swathes of silk fabric, keeping the chill out but allowing the last rays of sunlight to stream in.

Ali must have made some noise of surprise that reached the open door downstairs. She heard Cullen yell up, “Read the blessed file!” and the door closed solidly.

Still in shock, she dropped her saddlebags with a heavy _clunk_ , and opened the thin missive. Inside were two sheets of paper, the first written in Josephine’s careful, lovely script.

_Our dear friend,_

_It is an unfortunate reality of our current situation that you are tasked with great responsibilities. Much has been taken from you, your burdens are many, and the Inquisition continues to ask for more and more of you._

_But you are not the Inquisition, and in this room, you are not the Inquisitor. You are Alinora Trevelyan, beloved daughter, a mage of the Ostwick circle, and our dear friend. This is your space - there will be no reports here, no casualty lists, and no talk of red lyrium or ancient magisters. Access through War Room will discourage interruption from even your most insistent supplicants, and we, your friends, will not come here save by your express invitation - this is your sanctuary and your home._

At the bottom of the page was a hasty postscript in Leliana's hand. _Cole would like it to be clearly mentioned that he will not listen to anything that happens in your room, unless you invite him directly, or it is really really an emergency._

Ali blinked back tears, and turned to the next page. It looked like a list of requisitions, and she wondered briefly if Cullen had accidentally mislaid one of his ever present lists. Upon closer inspection, she realized this was a requisition list of changes to her room, and her companions, no, _friends,_ had all added an explanation.

  * 1 Wooden Jewelry Box - Key in lock 
    * Provided by Blackwall
    * _For the keeping of rings._
  * Selection of Dresses – Various styles 
    * Provided by Cassandra
    * _Because you are a woman as well as a warrior._
  * 1 Large Seashell - Unknown Origin 
    * Provided by Cole
    * _To hear the ocean while you sleep._
  * 1 Great Bear Rug 
    * Provided by Cullen
    * _The floors in Skyhold get very cold. This should help keep your feet warm._
  * 1 Velvet Dressing Gown 
    * Provided by Dorian
    * _Flattering and Fashionable! Just like me!_
  * 1 Case of Arbor Gold Wine 
    * Provided by Iron Bull
    * _Boss - this is the really good shit. Drink it in good health._
  * 1 Tea Service, suitable for hot chocolate as well 
    * Provided by Josephine
    * _I hope you like this! If you do not, I will find you something else!_
  * 3 pairs of embroidered slippers 
    * Provided by Leliana
    * _You have a shameful lack of shoes. These will help._
  * 4 Royale Silk Drapes – Coral pink 
    * Provided by Sera
    * _Ha ha, now your walls look like ladybits_
  * 3 walls of Murals - Botanic motif 
    * Painted by Solas
    * _Dream well_
  * One Mandolin 
    * Provided by Varric
    * _Junebug, you don’t sing enough anymore. I miss it._
  * 1 set of sumptuous cotton bedding 
    * Provided by Vivienne
    * _We all get so little sleep, my dear. We must make the most of what we can have._



Still reeling, Ali turned and flew down the stairs back into the war room.


	15. Chapter 15

Still reeling, Ali turned and flew down the stairs back into the war room. She burst through the door and practically leapt onto Josephine and threw her arms around her in a giant hug.

“Thankyouthankyou! This is the best thing that you ever could have done and I can’t believe you remembered all my right tea flavors and the hot chocolate is my favorite.” She was crying and laughing and couldn’t quite stop babbling as she turned from Josephine to hug Leliana. “I hope I haven’t been too unbearable lately and I’ve been trying so hard and the slippers are just the loveliest things and I’ll want to wear them all the time, and oh Cullen,” she said, turning to hug him, “You get a hug too, even if it’s hard to hug a man in full plate, and where on earth did you find a rug like that?”

*****

By now, everyone was slightly taken aback at the whirling dervish of emotion that had flown into the War Room, and were gaping slightly at the Inquisitor. Cullen, trying to follow the rapid fire monologue that had just happened, grasped on to the last question.

“Oh, I, uh, heard that there was a rather large bear terrorizing our camp in the Graves, so I took a few days to, um, kill it. It seemed a waste not to use the pelt somehow.” He shuffled a little awkwardly, realizing how terribly pedestrian that sounded.

He glanced at her face; just as it split open into the most _brilliant_ smile he had ever seen. “You killed Old Scarred Paw for me?” she shrieked in delight as she launched forward again, grabbing him by the biceps. “I’ve been dreading taking care of that - I hate it when I have to go after the bears and I always think I’m going to get everyone killed...”

Cullen smiled back at her, genuinely thinking like he had never felt anything better than the satisfaction of knowing that he had brought this happiness to his friend who he . . . quite liked and respected. Of course, he was immediately proven wrong when she kissed his cheek with a loud _smack_ , quite resetting his baseline for how good he could possibly feel.

Ali pulled back, her exuberance slightly more restrained now. Josephine was giggling, and Leliana was chuckling under her breath as she reached out.

“Come dear, you should go enjoy your evening. Try the wine, read a book, have a shower -”

Ali rounded on her, “What’s a shower?!?” Without waiting for an answer, she raced to the door, pausing only to slam it shut behind her.

*****

In her room before, she’d had a rather small bathtub that could be filled with snow melt then warmed with fire runes. Now, there was not just the promised shower, but much more. Her new tub was nearly double the size of the old one, with a bench and a headrest for maximum soaking comfort. Suspended over the tub was a pipe that ended in a grate, and two taps underneath it. Curious, Ali turned the left hand one and was delighted to find that the water that gushed out was already steaming hot.

Alinora immediately unpinned her hair, which was just as tangled and filthy as she feared, but she stood under the grate and washed it until the water ran clean. She laughed with joy when she filled the tub with hot clean water, and again when she discovered the bottle of bath oil on a shelf above the tub. After soaking a little longer, she got out and slid into her new robe, (which was absolutely as comfortable as Dorian had promised.) She was trying to decide which pair of slippers to wear when she caught sight of her abandoned belongings by the stairs.

They seemed so wildly out of place - those were the Inquisitor’s things, and this was Alinora’s room. Marching over to the corner, she snatched up her bags and suddenly realized that her staff wasn’t there.

She looked around frantically, before noticing that her staff was neatly set on a pair of hooks at the entrance to the room - hooks that had not been there before today.

_I must have hung it there without even thinking. Those hooks are just like the ones we had in the Circle, so someone must have known that…._

_...Cullen_

She turned slowly in a circle, studying the room with new eyes. True, each of her friends had contributed something, but none of them could be responsible for the initial idea.

_If it had been Leliana or Josephine who noticed what a bad place I’m in, they would have talked to me about it first. Sera or Dorian would have thought of this, but they would have taken all the credit for the idea. Cole or Solas might have tried, but it wouldn’t be so practical. Varric and Iron Bull would have just taken me out for drinks, and Vivienne and Blackwall would have tried to logic me through all my worries._

_But Cullen knew. I told him the day we got to Skyhold.  So he did this?_

Now that she had figured it out, it was as if his signature was on every aspect of her room. The new footlocker at the end of her bed was the same style as those given to new mages when they left home for the Circle. A small shrine to Andraste was tucked in the corner behind her wardrobe with a fat Chantry candle on top. There was an armor stand sized to fit her, and of course, the wonderful hooks that only someone who had spent time in a Circle, as a mage or _as a Templar_ would have known about.

Alinora knew how much Cullen avoided thinking about his time in the Circles, and she smiled at the thought that he had thought of it _to help her_. Her smile grew as she thought about his reaction to her earlier, to his blush when she kissed his cheek. She’d have to tell him that she figured it out, and to tell him -

_Tell him nothing. He doesn’t want any credit for this, and he wants me to accept this as a gift from everyone, not just him. This is a sign of friendship, and nothing more. Don’t allow it to go further than that and don’t allow yourself to think like that._

She gulped, and went to the wardrobe to dress for dinner. And as much as she tried to ignore it, the unwanted thought stayed right under her breastbone, where it pulsed, warm and welcome over her heart.  


	16. Chapter 16

The air outside the Gull and Lantern was thick and stagnant. Ali stretched her legs out on the bench, wishfully hoping for a breeze to blow in off the lake. She thought about summoning one up with magic, but decided not to risk spooking the townspeople, who were rightfully worried about the use of magic in their small village.

Dorian had been inside for an awfully long time. She was just making her mind up to go check on him when the tavern door smashed open. Startled, she rolled off the bench and got to her feet just in time for Dorian to storm past her. His father was just a moment behind, and, based on the licks of flame coming off his hands, things hadn't gone well at all.

Ali moved to get out of his way, but 'accidently' let her staff trail behind, where it 'unfortunately' tripped the elder Pavus. As he started to rise, she leaned over to give him a hand and knocked his knees out from behind, sending him crashing back to the ground.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorian crossing the bridge out of the village proper. Satisfied that he'd soon be under the protection of Bull and Sera, she turned her attention back to the man sprawled in front of her.

Pavus Senior was not unimpressive, but neither was he as handsome as he seemed to think he was. Still, that didn't prevent him from looking at Ali with what was clearly meant to be a charming smile, and when he spoke, his voice oozed with condescension masked as flattery.

"My lady, I do apologize that you've been embroiled in this petty family affair. The ways of fathers and sons must seem so very foreign to you." He started to rise, but Ali whipped her staff around and held the blade close enough to his throat to be a warning, if not an outright threat.

"You'd be surprised what I know about good fathers and their sons. Please don't try to get up." Ali knew that they were starting to attract attention from the villagers, and she prayed that this wouldn't end with a magical duel with a Tevinter Magister. Still, she couldn’t just let him go – not after the things he’d done to Dorian. "You are done speaking to me."

He opened his mouth to argue, so Ali moved her staff blade closer until he closed his mouth and nodded. "You requested an audience with a member of my inner circle, and that request was granted. That audience is now at an end. You seem confused over your level of power over me and mine, so allow me to clarify. _You have none._ "

She let a tiny bit of mana seep through her fingers, just enough for purple sparks to crackle around the Anchor, drawing his attention to the green of the Fade embedded in her hand.

"Your son is a good man, and an asset to my cause. If you truly love Dorian, as you claim, then you will respect his wishes and allow him the space to heal from your betrayal. _However_ , if you love him only as a man loves a chance at immortality, love him only for his worth to your lineage, then be warned. If you try to influence him in any way, I will interpret that as an offensive act against the whole of the Inquisition. My policies towards Tevinter would have to change accordingly, and I will make sure the Magisterium knows that House Pavus is to blame. Do we understand each other?"

His eyes were black pits of hate, and for a moment, Ali was sure he was going to attack her with all the lifeblood in his body. Slowly, finally, his eyes dropped and he nodded, sitting fully back down on the ground.

"It seems I have no choice, you Fereldan bitch."

Almost without thinking, Ali inverted her staff and slammed the heavy glass globe against his jaw, knocking him over into unconsciousness. She considered his prone form for a moment before heading out to join her party, muttering under her breath, "That's 'Marcher bitch, thank you."

*****

The ride back to camp was hands down, the most uncomfortable experience of Alinora's life. Dorian had barely spoken at all, only asking if she'd 'killed the man', and hadn't shown any signs of discussing it further. Sera tried to make conversation, but today wasn't the right day for her brand of crudely sexual humor. Bull finally silenced her by handing her a particularly sticky piece of Seheronese candy, which effectively glued her mouth shut.

When they finally reached the camp, Dorian threw himself off the horse and headed towards the rocks, clearly seeking solitude. Sera left to hunt for dinner, while Bull attended to their mounts. Ali moved their packs to inside the tents, then checked the requisitions table.

Tucked among the mundane requests was a small scroll, which was probably meant to go out by raven the next morning. Ali unrolled it and scanned the brief lines. _Creature Sighted. Please Advise. Redcliffe Threatened._ Below that was a small sketch, just a few lines suggesting at outstretched wings and billowing fire.

As the idea formed, her heart sped up and a wide grin spread across her face. She scanned the rocks until she saw Dorian's perch twenty feet above camp. He saw her running over, and shook his head, indicating that he didn't want company.

Ali ignored his gesture and stood below him, hands firmly on hips. "Dorian Pavus, what can I do to make you feel better?"

He sighed, a long dramatic exhale, then followed it up with a mournful, "Nothing."

Undeterred, she looked down at the scroll then back up at him. "I was going to ask for your help to kill this dragon, but I guess I can handle it on my own."

She turned to walk away, but only made it four steps before she heard a loud thump, followed by a much more cheerful voice saying, "On second thought, I feel like killing something would really improve my afternoon."

*****

" _Taarsidath-an halsaam_!" Bull raised his glass in another toast.

Ali grimaced as she took a sip from hers, bracing herself for another taste of the harsh Qunari liquid that Bull claimed was liquor. She glanced at the giant man curiously. "What was that you just said?"

Bull's eye glinted mischievously. "It means I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect. What a damn good fight that was!"

It had been a damn good fight, Ali reflected. If she'd know that they would face a dragon when they left Skyhold, Dorian and Sera wouldn't have been her first choices, but they'd managed well enough. Sera found high ground early, leaping up the cliff as she meticulously shot the tiny dragonlings straight through the eye. Between the two mages, they'd kept Bull protected while he carved huge chunks out of the dragon with his massive broadsword, screaming profane statements of joy the whole time. He did step back at the last minute and generously passed his sword to Dorian so he could make the killing blow.

Dorian had seemed in better spirits when they returned to camp with the spoils of battle. They'd all passed out almost instantly, then slept late in the morning before riding back to Skyhold. Once they arrived, all four of them headed straight to the tavern by unspoken consent. Improved mood or no, Ali didn't feel right about leaving Dorian to drink alone. Sera had headed upstairs to her room, Bull had pulled out this liquid fire to drink and Dorian had…

She scanned the room for him, spotting him in the corner speaking to Krem in Tevene. Bull turned to see what she was looking at, which caught Krem's attention. Together, he and Dorian raised their glasses and shouted "Manaveris Dracona!"

Bull growled at the Tevinter expression and shouted something back in Qunlat. Ali, not wanting to get involved, stared at the mug of liquor in front of her, and wondered if she could use it to dissolve the tar stuck all over her boots.

The moment of quiet contemplation was interrupted by the sudden bellowing shout of Cullen using his best command voice to holler "Inquisitor!!" from the top floor of the tavern. Ali rolled her eyes at Bull and grabbed her mug of alcoholic drain cleaner. "I guess he heard about the dragon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned into a long chapter, so I had to split it up. Tomorrow, you'll see what Cullen's reaction is to... lots of things.


	17. Chapter 17

Cullen stood at the top of the stairs, watching Ali make her unsteady way up towards him. She didn’t seem injured, just a little tipsy, so he concluded that she was still plenty sober enough to be yelled at.

Really, he should have expected this. The last few weeks had seen the return of the old Alinora, the one who met him at breakfast every morning and made terrible puns at the War Table. He should have expected that the return of that Alinora would also mean the return of the one who makes snap decisions and doesn't consult with her advisors over important things like High Dragons.

This was supposed to have been a quick trip to Redcliffe, just a supply run and some personal business for Dorian. He hadn’t even felt the need to come meet her at the gates, figuring she would come see him after dinner. When he’d overheard two of his lieutenants whispering about a dragon slaying, he thought his heart had stopped beating for a moment. High Dragons were nothing to scoff at, and the thought of Ali out there fighting one was enough to make him drop everything and storm to the tavern. Now, looking at her disheveled hair and bright eyes, he couldn’t quite decide if he wanted to slap her or hug her, so yelling seemed like the best option.

When she got to the top of the stairs, he didn't give her a chance to speak, but picked her up by the elbows and plopped her down into the corner like she was a child. "A dragon? Is it true? Did you really go after a fucking dragon?" Cullen had a million emotions running through his head, but he couldn’t seem to form them into any words better than, “A fucking dragon?” so he repeated them a few more times for good measure.

Ali shushed him, but didn’t look at all cowed by the his official _you are in trouble_ voice. Instead she tapped a finger against her lips and with a furrowed brow asked, "Are you really angry at me for killing a dragon today, or are you just jealous that you didn't get to be there?"

Taken aback by such a ridiculous, high-handed, probably correct accusation Cullen snatched the drink out of her hand and tipped back half of it. He should have known it wasn’t beer - the Inquisitor never drank it – but he wasn’t prepared for the sensations that hit a moment after he swallowed the harsh liquid. His eyes bugged, and he choked a little before falling to coughing and hacking. Ali helpfully pounded on his back, but it took several long moments before he recovered, eyes streaming and cheeks red.

"I think my throat just melted. What was that?" He asked in a breathless voice as she giggled at his panicked face.  

"Bull poured it. He said it’ll put chest on my chest.”

"You have plenty of chest already, lady." Cullen realized what he said a moment too late, and to his horror, she realized it too. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t mean… What in the void did I just drink? And why does it smell like burnt hair?”

"Oh." Ali looked away, cheeks coloring. "That's me actually. One of my braids came loose and got caught in a blast."

Wordlessly, Cullen reached out and pulled her two long braids over her shoulders. The left one was several inches shorter, and looked rather like it had been trimmed off with a dagger. Sera’s work, he assumed.

His anger had been tempered by the strong drink, but it wasn’t gone altogether. Before he could say anything, Ali clapped a hand over his mouth. "Look, I know you think it was terribly irresponsible for us to after the dragon, but it was terrorizing the area, and it was getting closer to Redcliffe. This is what I do Cullen, I go out into the world and I kill the bad things. We won, we’re fine, hair grows back, and that’s all there is to it. Understand?”

Her hand was warm over his mouth and she was staring at him with a look of patronizing bemusement. His anger gave way to relief as he considered the facts. Ali was back in Skyhold, she was safe, she was happy, and she’d done her job. Plus, she’d killed a fucking dragon, which was just really cool. He smiled against her hand, and she pulled it back with a sigh.

A burst of raucous laughter came up from below them. She turned her head towards the sound, biting her lip in worry. Belatedly, Cullen remembered the original reason for the trip. “How did things go in Redcliffe? What did Dorian’s family want?"

Ali took a few steps over to the edge of the balcony so she could look down at the floor below.  "His father came," she said softly. Cullen stepped up beside her and followed her gaze. "You'll know that Dorian fancies men, right?"

"He calls me Commander Tight-Pants when I lose at chess. I had an inkling."

"Hmm." Ali’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname, but she didn’t smile. She was outwardly calm, but he knew her well enough to recognize the strain in her face. "Well, it seems that Dorian was part of a loving family until they found out about his preferences. His father decided that blood magic would be an appropriate price to pay for a normal son. It’s why he left Tevinter."

Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he had the sudden urge to hit something very very hard. He thought he’d seen the worst of what humanity had to offer, all the possible abuses of power and blood magic, but this… “Maker. His father did that?”

Ali shook her head, still staring intently down at the tight group of friends near the bar. “He didn’t want to talk about it. So I found a dragon for him to kill instead. I think he’s feeling better now.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, earlier anger forgotten as he considered the woman standing next to him, and the lengths she was willing to go to every day. “Is there anything I can do for him?”

“Well, kissing a pretty boy always helps me.” Ali looked at him impishly. “Honestly Cullen, unless you can find the time to redecorate another bedroom – aw, shit.” She clapped her mouth shut a moment too late.

“How do you know that?” Cullen took two long steps backwards, horrified at what she’d just said. When he’d presented his plan to Leliana and Josephine, they’d all agreed that no one would find out it was originally his idea. Sure, he’d overseen lots of the details, and handled the building crews, but he really thought his secret was safe.

“Who told?” He finally asked morosely, trying to hide his embarrassment by pressing his hands to his face.

Ali was tugging on his wrists and laughing. “No one did Cullen, honestly. I figured it out right away. It wasn’t even hard – who else would do that for me?”

He moved his hands and peeked at her. She wasn’t mocking or teasing, and her smile looked like a genuinely thankful one. “Would it be okay if we never, ever talked about this?”

She nodded, but didn’t let go of his wrist. Instead, she started tugging him towards the stairs. “It’s probably for the best. Why don’t we just drink, instead?”

*****

Ali tugged him down the stairs, hoping he was tipsy enough to have let the rest of their conversation go. She’d had just enough to drink to be loose tongued, and she had definitely revealed more than she meant too. Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Cullen stopped abruptly and pulled her back, a look of realization on his face.

He pulled her into Krem’s usual corner and propped a hand up on the wall, trapping her there. “Who have you been kissing?” he demanded to know through gritted teeth.

Ali widened her eyes, knowing she couldn’t pretend he’d misunderstood, but also cursing the fact that he wasn’t drunk enough to miss her slip. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” She tried to duck under his arm, but he grabbed her sleeve and held her back.

“Maker’s Breath, Ali!” He was scowling at her, and seemed very serious. “This will have consequences! If it’s someone under your command or one of the nobles who visits…”

She snapped her head up at the realization that he might have legitimate concerns, but she was quite annoyed that he thought she’d make such a schoolgirl error. “It wasn’t like that – I’m not stupid. It was… Hawke, okay? Just once, in the Mage’s tower to try to cheer me up.”

He didn’t seem to know how to react to that. A flurry of emotions crossed his face – annoyance, relief and something almost like jealousy. Finally, he seemed to settle on disgruntled, and his scowl snapped back into place. “Tell me what happened.”

She scowled right back and tried to jerk out of his grip. Maker, but she wished they were having this conversation sober. “It wasn’t anything. He just wanted to remind me that there was still life in the world for me. Why, are you jealous?"

“No!” He said that a little too loud, and she checked to see if they were attracting attention from the rest of the bar. Luckily, Blackwall and Bull were having some kind of chugging contest, so no one was paying a lick of attention to their dark corner. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Why didn’t Hawke?”

She stood to her full height, which was unfortunately still several inches shorter than him. “I assume he didn’t tell you because he has _manners_. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t tell anyone. If it got out that the Champion kissed the Inquisitor, there would be a dozen terrible ballads written about it by the end of the day.”

He leaned in, pushing her further against the wall. “Right, and you’ve never trusted me with any secrets, have you _Apetwit_?”

She gaped at him, but had to admit that he had a point. “All right, I should have told you. But if it’s any comfort, killing that bear for me meant a hell of a lot more than a quick snog would have. Hawke reminded me that there was still life out in the world for me, but you reminded me that I can have that life here!”

Finally, his face softened. “Well that’s all right then.” The side of his mouth lifted in a lazy smirk. “So kissing a pretty boy isn’t as good as a bear rug. Is it better then killing a dragon?”

Surprised, she nodded.

He dropped his arms, freeing her from the corner. “Well, then. Maybe I can do something for Dorian after all.” He grinned at her with a smile full of mischief and strode towards the bar. He walked straight over to Dorian and murmured something in his ear, plucking the drink out of the mage’s hand. He wrapped his free hand around the back of Dorian’s head and pulled him into a kiss, pressing him against the bar as he very clearly slid his tongue into the other man’s mouth.

Everyone fell completely silent as they watched this utterly improbable display. Ali reached the group just in time to see Dorian knot one hand in Cullen’s curls, and snake the other one down towards his butt. An earsplitting whistle sounded from the second floor, followed by Sera yelling, “Yeah, get it boys!”

They stopped kissing immediately and broke away laughing. Cullen was blushing and Dorian seemed a little shell-shocked. They reached out and gave each other a very manly handshake.  Cullen pitched his voice loud enough for the whole crowd to hear him proclaim, “Your father is a bigot, ser. If he comes at you again, he’ll be coming at me too.”

For once in his life, Dorian seemed at a loss for words. He stared at Cullen, then gave a small, grateful nod before looking around for a drink. Cullen moved out of his way, but found Ali’s eyes in the crowd and dropped her another quick wink.

Ali barely even saw it. She stood stock still - the sight of the two unfairly handsome men kissing having left her feeling rather like she’d been hit upside the head with a very large stick. Bull was beside her, and seemed to notice her reaction. He nudged her gently. “You all right there, Boss?”

She tried to speak, but her mouth had gone completely dry. She took the beer out of Bull’s hand and took a long drink. She handed it back and looked at him directly, finally finding her words. “ _Taarsidath-an halsaam_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray for another Firefly reference!
> 
> And yes, there will be other kissing eventually. Just not yet.
> 
> This is the chapter that never ends, apparently. I did a read through of it but ended up doubling the wordcount with new stuff, so I had to split it up again.


	18. Chapter 18

An hour later, the tavern had transitioned into a full on party. Word had spread quickly of _the kissing incident_ (as it was now being referred to), which, combined with the news of the dragon-slaying, was too much for anyone to miss. Even the most introverted inhabitants of Skyhold had turned out for a night of revelry.

It seemed that Cullen's grand gesture had started something of a trend, and now, everyone wanted to show their support for Dorian with a kiss. Varric had climbed up a barstool to recite a very bawdy limerick before leaping into Dorian’s arms. Bull gave him a very sweet, almost romantic embrace, while Blackwall went with a very workmanlike sort of buss. Even Solas had given him a chaste, closed mouth kiss on the very corner of his mouth before whispering something to him in Elvhen. The women of the group - realizing that their attentions weren’t as welcome - had stuck to long hugs and free drinks, although Dagna had offered to mail his father something 'punitive'.

Alinora had disappeared shortly after ‘the incident’. Vivienne had arrived and taken one whiff of the Herald’s singed hair before declaring it abhorrent and shooing her away for a bath.

Cullen leaned back against the bar, sipping at yet another Fereldan beer as he waited for her to return. He didn’t think either of them had done or said anything unforgivable, but if there was one thing he could be sure of with his friendship with Ali, it was that there was usually an apology in the works from one of them.

At last, she pushed through the door, winding her way through the crowd toward the bar. She’d bathed as ordered, and changed into one of the dresses Cassandra had given her. The simple green wool flattered her, and she looked more like the noblewoman she was than he’d ever seen her. She was holding her mandolin, which intrigued him - he’d heard stories of her singing, but hadn’t ever gotten to witness it.

"Planning on serenading us?” He stepped sideways and held up a finger to the bartender, who promptly slid a tankard down the bar.

“Mm, probably. Dorian demanded I soothe him with a song.” She took a long sip and grimaced at the taste of the beer. Pausing a moment, she shrugged before taking another gulp. “I need the liquid courage. So, you and the mage, huh?”

He scowled at her puckishly raised eyebrows. “Never again. His mustache tickles. I should be glad it wasn’t Blackwall.”

She snorted, coughing over her beer. “We should all be glad of that. So which of us needs to apologize this time?”

He tried not to laugh at her, not wanting to explain how closely her thoughts were running to his. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her lightly. “No worries, magelet. We’re square.”

Snuggling into his shoulder, she nodded. “Excellent. But let me know if you want me to kick Hawke in the danglies the next time I see him.”

“Next time?”

She glanced up at him. “I leave for the Western Approach in a few days, remember?”

He hadn’t remembered. Somehow, the excitement of earlier followed by the ease of the evening had chased all Inquisition business out of his head. He didn’t want to think about the battles raging ahead of them, he just wanted to stand here, surrounded by his friends and giving grief to the woman next to him.

Unluckily, that was the moment that Dorian realized Alinora had returned. He came bounding over and pulled her out from under Cullen’s arm, spinning her into the middle of the room. In a slightly slurred voice, he demanded “Sing me a song!”

She was laughing as she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “For you, of course. What do you want to hear?”

Dorian huffed and started pushing her back towards the bar. “I want you to sing me my song. A new song, just for me. I know you have one.”

Realizing that they were headed straight for him, Cullen ducked sideways, ending up standing next to Cassandra. Bewildered, he turned to her for an explanation. “What does he mean, a new song?”

Cassandra turned to him with her typical stony expression. “Alinora frequently sings for us on the road. On occasion, she has presented… an original work. They vary greatly in quality.”

This was certainly news to him, and Cullen wondered what else happened on the road that he wasn’t privy to. He was about to ask when Cassandra preempted him. “I was very sorry to miss your display earlier. Sera has promised to give me all the details, and I have heard that Varric is going to incorporate it into his next serial.”

Cheeks burning, he decided that silence was his best option and busied himself with his beer. He looked up just in time to see Bull giving Ali a boost to sit on the bar as she clutched her instrument. Dorian stood beside her bouncing on his heels as he repeated _sing me a song, sing me a song_. Once she was settled, Bull pulled Dorian away and silenced him with a hand across his mouth, nodding to Ali to continue.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Opening them, she addressed the room as a whole. “Excuse me everybody!” It took a moment for the noise to die down, but the whole group was pretty well trained to jump at the sound of her voice. “It seems Dorian has a request.” She signaled Bull, who removed his hand from the mage’s mouth, who promptly shouted, “Sing me a song!”

Over the laughter of the crowd, Ali shouted back her agreement. As the room quieted again, she began.

 _Sing me a song of a lad that is gone_  
_Say, could that lad be thy?_  
_Merry of soul he sailed on a day_  
_Over the sea to Skyhold_

Cullen was transfixed. Her voice couldn’t hold a candle to Leliana’s but he could hear the affection and love she had for Dorian as she sang. He wondered if she always sounded like this, and he felt a brief pang in his chest as he realized that his duties would always keep him at Skyhold as she went off on adventures. He closed his eyes and imagined it - a far away camp, Alinora in the glow of firelight, singing serenely as he took first watch, the two of them keeping everyone safe as they nestled into their bedrolls.

 _Billow and breeze, islands and seas_  
_Mountains of rain and sun_  
_All that is good, all that is fair_  
_All that is ours is yours_

She finished the song with a long chord, then slipped off the bar. Dorian immediately launched himself at her while bursting into tears. She gave him a big kiss on his cheek before gracefully handing him off to Bull. She looked back towards Cullen, but when he smiled at her, she blushed in embarrassment and turned away to speak to Dagna.

If there was anything Cullen had sympathy for, it was being embarrassed in public. With a sigh, he tipped back the dregs of his beer and turned to pass the time with Cassandra.

*****

Two hours, and many beers later, he started to feel the familiar pull in his bones that meant he might be able to fall asleep for a few blessed hours. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself as he left, so he started working his way up the stairs towards the battlements. He had just opened the door to the abandoned room when he heard a breathless voice call his name. Cursing at how close he'd come to escaping, he turned to see who had caught him.

Ali stood behind him at the bottom of the stairs, bright eyed and red cheeked. Still breathless from her race up the stairs, she pleaded, “Take me with you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” He was sure he’d misheard her. She hadn't spoken to him since her song, instead staying in the thick of things. She'd sung again, played a hand of cards with the Chargers, and even danced with Varric on top of a table. He'd last seen her with Josephine, trading a shiny silver bracelet for a shot of Antivan sip-sip.

“Get me out of here. Every time I try to go to my room, someone hands me another drink and gives another toast. I can’t take it anymore.” She looked so pitiful standing there with her wide eyes and pleading hands that he decided to risk his own escape to help her.

He extended a hand towards the door. “After you, lady. I’ll smuggle you home through my office.”

They made their way across the battlements as quietly as possible. While neither one was particularly gifted at being stealthy, they managed to avoid notice of any patrolling soldiers. When they reached his office door, he was shocked to realized that it was locked.

"Oh bother," Cullen murmured, knocking his forehead against the door. He'd gone straight from the training yard to the tavern, and the only unlocked door to his office was on the far side of the tower. He patted his pockets halfheartedly, knowing full well that he was going to have to sneak across the whole courtyard to get himself inside.

Beside him, Ali lolled against the rough stone wall. It seemed those last few shots had finally caught up with her, and she was singing softly under her breath. _Cullen, get out your key._

He stopped banging his head on the door and grabbed her just as she started to slip down the wall. "I don't have my key. We're locked out, and you are quite drunk, my lady."

She reached up and patted his cheek. "I'm not your lady. And we are aren't locked out. I need help."

 _Well, that's obvious_ , he almost said, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Cole who was utterly nonplussed by the situation and said sweetly. "I want to help."

Ali smacked a hand against the door. "Cole, I need to go in there. Help me."

Cole's pale eyes were just visible from under his hat as he looked at Cullen. "But it's your office."

Even after everything Cole had done for them, at Haven and after, Cullen was uncomfortable with the spirit. Still he appreciated everything he did for Ali, and he liked that Cole respected him enough to acknowledge his privacy, so he tried to be pleasant. "It is my office, and I'd like to go inside. Can you open the door, just this once?"

Cole nodded affably and knelt in front of the lock. He was about to start when he cocked his head, as if listening to something. "She's going to be sorry about your boots."

With a panicked glance, Cullen realized that Ali was swaying heavily, and looked a little green under the torchlight. Cursing, he propelled her towards the curtain wall and hoisted her high enough to get her head over the edge. It only took one hand to hold her there, so he used the other to grab her braids, holding them out of the line of fire.

He was terribly entertained to learn that Trevelyan women even vomited politely.

After she finished spitting out the remains of her drinking adventures, she wiggled backwards and he helped her down, gallantly trying to ignore the way her round bum slid down the front of him. He thought about making a crack about christening the walls of Skyhold, but decided she was probably embarrassed enough, so he just smoothed the hair back from her face, and kissed the top of her head.

The door was open, and Cole was gone. He led her inside his office and settled her on a chair. "Feeling better then? You should drink some water before you head back to your quarters." Giving her a moment to compose herself he poured her a goblet of water and added a splash of wine to help clear the aftertaste from her mouth. For himself, he poured the same - leaving out the water.

She'd regained some of her poise, and was sitting upright in the chair. She took the water with a grateful sigh, quickly draining half of it. She started to say something, then looked at him and started laughing. "I was going to apologize for that, but really, of course it's you who had to hold my hair back. And yes, I do feel better. That was quite a sobering view."

Cullen leaned against his desk and joined in her laughter. "No apology needed, lady. We've all been there." Pointing a finger at her, he made his voice a little more stern, "But you should take this as a lesson about mixing beer and liquor. You don't have the stomach for it."

Tipping her head back, she snuggled into the chair. "No, and I always think I do. Still it was a really good night. Kissing, singing, laughing - I've missed nights like these."

He moved to the other chair and got comfortable, stretching his legs out on his desk and sipping at his wine. He could have rousted her up and sent her to bed, but he was enjoying this quiet, peaceful time together. It felt like ages since they'd had a moment alone, and he missed the way they used to talk in Haven.

She must have felt his eyes on her. "What are you thinking about Cullen?"

No way in the Void would he tell her what he was really thinking, ( _she looks happy, glad I made her happy, wish she hadn't kissed Hawke, wish I could tell her that_ ), so he just smiled serenely. "I was thinking how much I liked your song."

That had the intended effect, and she squelched her face up in mortification. "Oh, I can't believe I did that."

"Do you really have songs for all of them?"

She shrugged. "Most of them. Solas is hard, and I can't do anything for Cole. I don't think he understands music very well."

The question was on the tip of his tongue, and he couldn't resist blurting it out. "Do you have one for me?"

A slow wash of red crawled up her face, and for a moment, he thought she was going to lie about it. He hadn't given her enough credit though - she just shrugged again and answered. "Sort of. They change though, depending on what's happening. You wouldn't believe the foul lyrics I had after the day at the lake in Haven."

He swirled his wine, not sure if he should keep pushing. "Do you have anything more recent?"

Another shrug. "Sure. I have to do something when it gets too dark to knit." He gave her an expectant look, so she rolled her eyes and continued, voice soft. "I was a little taken aback by how you reacted to the dragon, and then your reaction to Hawke... Well, I thought about it earlier when Vivienne sent me away. It wasn't finished though, until we were outside just now."

He kept staring at her expectantly, but she didn't take the bait this time. "If you want to hear it, you need to give me a good reason to sing it. Tonight notwithstanding, I don't normally take requests."

The air was very still around them, and the tower doors kept all the noise out. Cullen reflected on the strangeness of the night and decided that sharing his earlier thoughts wouldn't be out of the question. "When you were singing before, I realized how much happens when you're gone. I see the reports, of course, but I was... can you be homesick for somewhere you've never been?"

He'd thought she might laugh at him, or make a joke about their roles in the Inquisition. Instead, she regarded him silently, a faint trace of wistfulness in her eyes. Finally, she set her drink on the desk and rolled her neck. "That actually fits very well. But I warn you, if you mock me for this, I will never sing for you again. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Excellent. Close your eyes. There's no way I can get this out if you're watching me."

Cullen almost protested, but reconsidered when he realized how much humiliation she was risking at his request. Obediently, he closed his eyes, putting a hand over them for good measure.

He heard her take a deep breath, then she started singing in a low, husky voice.

 _The wind is cold this time of year_  
_Last night I couldn't sleep_  
_Oh, you know it sure is hard to leave you Cullen_  
_But I'll soon be coming home_  
_My fingernails are filthy, I got beach tar on my feet_  
_And I miss my clean white linen and my fancy dressing gown_  
_Let's have a round for these freaks and these soldiers_  
_A round for these friends of mine_  
_Let's have another round for the bright red devil_  
_Who keeps me in this fortress town_  
_Oh Cullen get out your key_  
_And I'll put on some armour_  
_Oh you're a mean ex-Templar, but I like you fine_

She trailed off into a heavy silence. He knew he should say something, but he couldn't figure out what words could possibly encompass... he felt like his heart was full to bursting, but he also felt lighter, unburdened for a moment of all his cares.

Finally, he cleared his throat and asked softly. "Is that really how you see me?"

He opened his eyes to see her looking everywhere but at him. Her mouth twisted a little. "Can this be another thing we never really talk about again?"

She held out a hand for his goblet, and he handed it over without thinking. "That seems fair. We'll just keep doing nice things for each other, and never talking about them. I think that will work for us."

Instead of the pert rebuttal he was expecting, she made a low rumbling sound deep in her throat. She was staring intensely into his cup, and gave him an accusatory look when she took a small sip of the wine that was left. “Cullen… why aren’t you drunk?”

The tone of the room shifted abruptly, the cool stillness transitioning from comfortable to icy in an instant. He tried not to look guilty, but was pretty sure he failed. "I don't know what you mean. It's getting late. You should probably head back to your quarters."

She tossed the remnants of his wine across the desk, the bright red of the wine staining his papers like blood. There was true anger in her voice as she hissed at him. "You've been drinking all night, and aside from that one crack about my tits - oh yes I remember that - you haven't been drunk at all. Blackwall drank some of Bull's stash on the road once and we had to tie him to his horse. You aren't any bigger than him, so don't give me any shit about your size. You drank that whole glass of liquor and hardly showed it!"

He tried to bluff his way through it, but she just yelled over him. "I saw you tonight Cullen, keeping up with the rest of us. You had at least a dozen beers, and then came back to your office to unwind with a cup of unwatered wine, and you're sober as a Chantry brother. Well?!? Do you always drink like this?!?"

The anchor in her hand was crackling with energy. She stood ramrod straight and her eyes were furious, her lips pulled back against her teeth. Desperately, Cullen tried to think of an explanation he could give her, but he found, to his surprise, that he really wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her about the lyrium, the dreams, the demons who chased his days and filled his nights, and how the drink was the only thing that kept them away, even for a little while.

But he couldn't. He knew if he did, she would stay in Skyhold to tend to him. The situation in the Western Approach couldn't be ignored - she simply had to be there to meet with Hawke and Stroud. The situation with Dorian had eaten up all of her available time, and he couldn't, _wouldn't_ be the cause of any delays for her.

Now, he just had to find a way to make her accept that. "Do you play chess?"

He'd hoped the change of subject would sideline her, but her anger was unabated. "What does that have to do with the price of pussy in Antiva? Of course I fucking play fucking chess, but you haven't answered my fucking question!" Her anger was breaking a little, and he suddenly saw the bone deep worry for him that was fueling it.

Touched, he stood and stood and reached for her non-Anchor hand. Holding it softly, he said gently. "Alinora, you're not wrong, but we cannot have this conversation now. We will, the first day you get back."

Her face crumpled a little and she clutched at his hand. "But I'll be gone for months!"

"I know." He was terribly ashamed that the night had taken this turn, but there was no hope for it now. "The first day you get back, I'll meet you in the garden at the fifth bell, and we'll have this conversation. I'll bide until then."

She stared at him, lip trembling, seemingly evaluating her chance at breaking him down. He expected further arguments, but instead, she leaned forward and gave him a bone crushing hug, knocking him against the desk.

To his great surprise, she pulled away from him just long enough to wrap her face in his hands, just like he'd done to her that last awful day at Haven. She pressed her lips to his hairline in a lingering kiss, before whispering _take care of yourself_ and stepping back from him.

Everything suddenly seemed very awkward, and he was somehow very aware of his hands, and really not sure how to hold them casually. She didn't seem any more at ease, and shuffled her feet for a moment. "I should go back to my -"

"You should go back to your-"

They both had started talking at the same time, which did nothing to break the awkward tension. Finally, Ali reverted back to her old standby of noble manners and drew herself upright. She dipped a small curtsy and lilted, "Good evening Commander."

Relieved, Cullen bowed back. "Good evening Inquisitor."

Without another word, she left the tower, leaving him leaning on his desk. He was suddenly wistful for the days when dragons were all he had to worry about and anxious for the conversation that was now months away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for more songs?!? Thanks to the Outlander theme song and Joni Mitchell's song Carey for the original lyrics. I changed some things around to make them fit better.
> 
> And yes, if they hadn't had the fight, the night would have ended in a kiss. These poor, confused dorks.
> 
> Some of the upcoming chapters are really long. Can y'all let me know if you have a preference between a short chapter every day, or long chapters with maybe a day off or so every so often?


	19. Chapter 19

It was a sorry group that gathered at the War Table the next day. Based on her red eyes and unwashed hair, Leliana had clearly joined the party at some point and tried to make up for lost time. Josephine was clutching a bottle of tea like a lifeline, and had a very suspicious series of red marks down her neck that she adamantly refused to talk about.

Ali wasn't any better. She'd awoken at dawn, determined to make good use of the day. Instead she'd vomited again, chugged a restoration potion and gone back to bed until the afternoon. She finally dragged herself down to the War Room, drawn by hunger and a refusal to fall behind schedule.

Her advisors had come dutifully to her summons. The women were, as usual, the first to arrive and they all immediately collapsed against the table, rehashing the night and trading bits of gossip. She considered telling them about her suspicions of Cullen, but kept shying away from the subject. He'd scared her, a little. Whatever was going on with him was more than a simple matter of too much drink, and she was wary of making the situation worse through her ignorance.

She reconsidered her generosity when Cullen arrived. He was his usual well-coiffed self, and showed no signs of the hangover demon that had hooked the rest of them. As he swept into the room, she noticed that he seemed to smell particularly appetizing.

She wasn't the only one who noticed. Beside her Josephine looked around, trying to focus her bleary eyes. "Is that... bacon?"

With a bow, Cullen whipped his hand from behind him, triumphantly holding up a plate piled high with greasy, piping hot bacon sandwiches. "Ladies, I have pillaged the kitchens and returned with my bounty."

Leliana leapt forward and snatched the plate, stuffing an entire sandwich in her mouth before plopping it down on the table where it covered most of the Free Marches. Cullen checked his hand quickly, probably making sure she hadn't taken one of his fingers along with the plate. He caught Ali's eye and winked, but she was having none of his charm, being too occupied with eating two sandwiches at once.

Once the food was gone, they settled down to business. They started with a review of Scout Harding's initial reports, then moved on to hashing out the details. Ali was relieved to discover that everything was prepped for her trip. Supplies were packed, and Leliana had notified her agents at the necessary supply stations to stand by with fresh mounts. This was going to be a long, hard ride, and Ali knew they would have to stretch every day of travel as long as possible. Josephine had sent letters out to her noble contacts, who were willing to provide housing whenever possible. The thought of hot baths and real beds along the road would help motivate them to keep to the harsh schedule. Cullen couldn't do anything to make the trip easier, but he was dispatching a crew of soldiers to follow behind the party. They would be a week behind, but it was reassuring to know that their backs were guarded.

Throughout the conversation, Cullen kept trying to catch Alinora's eye, but she kept her attention focused on the matters at hand. Bacon sandwiches or no, she wasn't quite willing to cut him any slack this morning. If this trip was more important than whatever was going on with him, then fine, she would focus on the trip. But if he thought that she had forgotten their argument, he had another think coming.

At last the conversation turned to discussing who would be going with her. Normally this would have been decided long ago, but they'd pushed the discussion off until the business in Redcliffe was concluded. As Ali shuffled her papers, she felt a small glow of anticipation at what was about to happen. It turns out that spending the morning with your head in the privy gave you an excellent chance to plot at ways to keep your friend from drinking himself to death.

"Well, assuming Dorian survived the night, I'm bringing him. There are too many reports of Venatori activity to leave him behind. Varric will come as well. I'll need an archer, and I'm sure he'd like a longer chance to catch up with Garrett." Cullen's jaw clenched at her use of Hawke's first name, and her small glow of vengeful anticipation grew.

"I thought about taking Bull, but his horses will slow us down and I'd like a shield to hide behind. So instead, I'm taking Cassandra. I think she's reached some acceptance of Garrett, and I'd like for them to settle things in person."

Josephine looked a little confused. "We'd assumed you would take Warden Blackwall with you."

Ali nodded, then winced at how the movement made her head throb. "That was my initial plan, but the more I thought of it, the less I liked it. We don't know what is happening to the Wardens, or why Blackwall has been immune so far. I don't want to tempt fate, so I'm leaving him here."

For the first time that day, she looked directly at Cullen. Time to spring the trap. "Just to be sue that he is safe, I'm going to assign him to your care, Commander. I'm going to have him check in with you a few times a day, just so you can check on any signs of stress. Feel free to make use of him as well. I'm sure he can help you with training and some of your other duties."

Based on the murderous look in his eyes, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was about to skewered through with Cullen's massive sword. Oh, he'd seen the trap all right. No one had any misconceptions about where Blackwall's loyalties were, and he knew Ali would be receiving regular reports on his behavior. After a moment, he seemed to realize that she'd also found a way to get him more help as Commander, and his eyes softened a little.

The meeting broke up shortly after that. Leliana stayed in Josie's office to keep gossiping, but Ali pushed through, thinking to stop by the Undercroft. She'd just made it out to the hall when Cullen caught up and steered her through the door to the gardens.

They must have been a sight - arms crossed, staring nose to nose at each other. Luckily, the gardens were empty and no one was around to overhear their hissed words.

"Did you just assign me a babysitter?"

"Damn right I did! Little boys need someone to watch them!"

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I am your superior, Commander, and you will do well to remember that."

"Oh, superior are you? That doesn't give you the right to interfere in my business!"

"Of course I have to interfere! You're my best friend!" Fed up, she punctuated that last sentence by kicking his shin.

"Ow! Maker's Balls Ali! That really hurt!" Cullen did a funny little hopping dance for a moment before realizing what she said. "I'm your best friend?"

Ali hadn't meant to say that, as soon as the words slipped out she realized they were true. She loved everyone at Skyhold, with the sometime exception of Vivienne, but her feelings for Cullen were different. He was the first one she looked for when she got home, and she always looked forward to his letters the most. Somehow, this aggravating man had become the closest thing she had to family, and she loved him the most out of everybody.

That was a whole lot of thoughts to drop into a still hungover head, so Ali reverted back to her roots, going back even beyond her ingrained manners. She reverted to being a little sister.

"Duh!" She kicked out again, getting him in the other shin.

Cullen wisely stepped back out of her range, but the mood had been effectively broken. He rubbed the back of his neck and said with a voice full of amusement. "So much for us being adults about this. Look Ali, if this is what you have to do to leave Skyhold with a clean conscience, then so be it. And I promise you, everything will be fine when you return. I _promise_."

She wasn't sure if she believed him or not, but her hands were effectively tied. She couldn't force him to confide in her, but she also couldn't stay behind. With a sigh, she played her last card. "Fine. I'll trust you. But Blackwall will send me reports, and I want you to write me often. Tell me if anything goes even more tits-up."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You expect me to put that in a letter that goes through Leliana's agents? You know that will never happen."

She had to concede the point. For all that their spymaster kept a tight hold on information, slips were inevitable. Nibbling a fingernail, she tried to think of another solution. "Starkhaven. You can send me word from Starkhaven."

"I can do what?" Cullen looked as befuddled as she'd ever seen him.

"It was a thing we used to do as kids. Mama was all atwitter for the Vael boys and made my sisters write all these soppy letters to them. If we wanted to talk without the boys around, we would just say that we had news from Starkhaven and they would scamper right out of the room."

"Right. So if I say that I have news from Starkhaven, that means..."

"That your drunken ass is drowning in your own sick and I need to ride like hell to dry you out."

That was a cheap shot, but he didn't protest. With a long suffering sigh he reached out, pulling her into a hug. "Fine, if it will put your mind at ease. I don't want you worrying about this while you're out there. I want you concentrating on the Wardens and on not kissing Hawke again."

She tried to protest, but he just pulled her face against his breastplate, muffling her. "I know you think he's full of studly manliness, but I don't want you distracting Varric. If he finds out about your illicit romance, he's liable to shoot himself with Bianca and I don't want that on your head."

She managed to free herself enough to look up at his wicked smile. More than anything else, his terrible jokes were putting her mind at ease. She had to trust that he would hold himself together until she could get home to finish the job. He would be fine. He had to be.

*****

 _Harding was right. This place is a shithole_ , Ali thought as she surveyed the horizon with her spyglass.

It had been a rough two months. The desert was overrun with Venatori, and they'd had to deal with more ridiculously ill-thought attempts at time manipulation. The local fauna was more hazardous than usual, and they'd had a truly scary moment when Cassandra had been bitten by a snake high on her thigh. Varric had been in the midst of sucking out the venom when Dorian had finally killed the blasted thing and confirmed that he knew the antivenom recipe.

Even seeing Hawke hadn't made them any cheerier. He'd been perfectly cordial to all of them, but the stress of the situation was weighing on him heavily. There was hardly any trace of the intimacy that had existed in the tower at Skyhold. He spent hours ranging around their camp with Varric, frequently coming back with bloodied weapons and more meat than they could reasonably eat. The closest she'd come to him had been when he tried to teach her a leg sweep maneuver to use against rogues, but that had just ended with a sprained ankle and a bruised ego. Once they'd discovered the truth about the Wardens, he and Stroud had taken off for parts unknown, leaving the other four to finish the clean-up.

The only bright spots had come with letters from home. Dorian regaled them with the latest courtly gossip sent from Josephine, although he did hide one letter that Ali was sure was written by Bull. For Cassandra, Leliana had very helpfully forwarded the newest edition of The Randy Dowager Quarterly. Varric had promptly stolen it and spent an entertaining evening reading dramatic selections by the fire as Cassandra hid her face in her pillow. As for Ali, she got weekly updates from Blackwall assuring her that he was unaffected by the Calling, and was enjoying his time spent helping the troops. There was always a short postscript in Cullen's neat handwriting - _No word yet_. Ali thought that his hand might be getting slightly shakier as the letters went on, but she couldn't be sure.

She finished her scan of the horizon and closed the spyglass with a satisfying click. There was nothing else they could do here. She would have to come back out at some point, but it would be months before her engineers solved the toxic fog issue or got the damned bridge built.

Her trio of friends were waiting in the courtyard of the keep with bated breath and cheered when she gave them a thumbs up. They were heading home.

*****

Three weeks later, they rode into Skyhold's main courtyard well after midnight. Ali had tried to call them to camp hours before, but was roundly outvoted by three people as eager for their own beds as she was. They rode into the quiet courtyard, signaling to the guards to pretend they hadn't seen anything.

As Ali dismounted, she looked towards Cullen's tower. She wanted to run and see him immediately, but his windows were dark, and she was almost dead on her feet. If she went up there now, she would probably rouse him out of bed just in time to collapse in exhaustion and fall down the ladder. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, she left for her own quarters, pausing only long enough to leave a note for Josephine informing her that there would be a day of rest before her official debrief.

She slept late the next day, luxuriating in the feeling of her soft bed and softer pillows. She finally rose at the second bell feeling like a person for the first time in days. She sorted through her belongings, picking out the small presents she'd picked out for all her friends. Delighted to be out of armor at last, she wiggled into one of her favorite dresses and left her braids hanging long.

There were a few hours to kill until her appointment with Cullen, so Ali wandered the keep to check in with everybody. Bull had some promising news about a Quanri alliance, and Sera had a detailed list of pranks to update her on. Ali was especially grateful for the tip to avoid the third step on the back stairs, although she had some reservations about the amount of honey Sera had 'requisitioned' from the kitchens to make it happen. At last, the quarter to five bell rang and Ali made her way to the gardens. The fall foliage had started to come in, and the gazebo was a quiet white space in a sea of color. She set up the chessboard and settled in to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

When the bell finally rang at six, she couldn't deny it any longer. Cullen had forgotten. It was utterly implausible that he hadn't heard that she'd returned, and he would have sent a runner if he was delayed. When she finally stood up to leave, she considered going back to her room and pretending that she'd forgotten as well, but her anger overwhelmed her pride and she strode off towards his office.

His door was locked, and she got no answer when she knocked. Ali had a weird sense of deja vu as she leaned against the wall and whispered to the air. _I need help_.

Cole appeared next to her looking chagrined. "He said just this once, doors don't open twice."

Ali was getting better at talking to the spirit, but she wasn't sure if she could convince him to help her with this. "Cole, I know Cullen's office is private, but I want to help him. Can you help me help him?"

"Private, he's private, but you aren't private. You go in and out of his head so you go in and out of here?"

She had no idea what he meant, but mentally flipped a coin and assured him that yes, she did do that.

"I can't ask the lock again." Cole smiled beatifically and pulled a key from one of his many pockets. "But I can take a key from Cassandra, she never said no."

If it wouldn't have made him uncomfortable, Ali would have hugged the skinny boy. She settled for a heartfelt thank you and took the key. She pounded on the door one more time and shouted, "Cullen Rutherford, you let me in right now!"

When there was no answer, she turned the heavy key and pushed inside.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, this chapter has references to past sexual abuse and drug abuse. Nothing too explicit, but the content may be triggering to some.

"I'm gonna kill Blackwall."

The words popped out of Alinora's mouth without conscious thought as she took in the man before her. When the door banged open, Cullen had popped up from his chair then immediately collapsed back into it. He looked like the seventh stage of death. Although his tower was freezing, sweat beaded on his pale face. She was horrified to realize that she could literally see the veins in his forehead, a dark blue under his translucent skin, like he was disappearing before her eyes. He wasn't wearing his armor, for once, and she glanced down to the open collar of his shirt only to see his pulse hammering like a hummingbird.

He looked up from the box at his desk with bloodshot eyes and licked his pale lips. "It isn't his fault. He didn't know. I made sure he didn't know."

It seemed like a bad idea to spook him, so Ali took her time about closing and bolting the door, although she made sure not to put her back to Cullen. "Didn't know what? About the drink?"

"Drink?" It was a croaking, humorless sound. "That's not the problem. They came yesterday, the dwarves. A new supplier and they brought me my share directly. I found it last night, and I could hear - I could hear it singing to me. I don't want to take it. I wanted to come see you, but I can't leave without it. "

 _Oh, by Andraste and the Maker, by all the gods old and new. What has he done?!?_ Ali was suddenly dry mouthed with understanding. Carefully, oh so carefully, she stepped towards him. Standing over him, she could see the small wooden box held a glowing blue bottle. Mages generally took lyrium as a potion, but there were lots of ways to ingest the stuff. It took her a minute to identify the other paraphernalia in the box, and she had to clutch the desk frantically when their purpose left her lightheaded.

"You inject it, then?"

He stared at her, his words almost a challenge. "You get a better high that way. It makes you warm all over, holds you close." He clenched his left fist and pulled up his sleeve, showing her the old track marks along his forearm.

Ali stared back, unwilling to rise to the bait or to back down. "So make a decision then. Shall I find you a vein, or shall I get rid of it?"

She felt like they were on a great precipice, like at any moment he was going to fall and drag her right along with him. Internally, she hoped and prayed and _begged_ that he wouldn't take it. Deep down though, she knew that she would go to the Deep Roads to mine the stuff herself if he asked it of her. She wouldn't be strong enough to make the choice for him, to keep him forced in this hell against his will. She could only hope that he was strong enough to do it himself.

He reached out, concentrating very hard. His hand hovered over the box for a long minute before he decidedly slammed the lid shut and pushed it towards Ali. She snatched it up and retreated back to the other side of the room. Now that she had the box, there wasn't much she could do. She didn't want to leave him alone, but it didn't seem like a good idea to keep the bottle here. With a sigh, she pulled it out and drained it in one long swallow.

Ali could feel the lyrium humming through her veins, fizzing across her skin and making everything just a little bit brighter. That was some potent stuff and it had been a long time since she'd taken lyrium when she wasn't magically exhausted. Cullen's eyes bugged out across the table, and he licked his lips, staring at hers. Ali knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to leap across the desk and kiss her, wanted to suck every bit of the lyrium back out of her mouth and damn the consequences.

"Commander..." she growled warningly.

"I can still hear it," he responded through gritted teeth

There was only one way to get rid of the song - she had to use it all up, expend it as magical energy. She didn't have her staff, and this was a lot of energy to get out. Luckily, as the Ostwick Circle's premier mistress of domestic magics, she had just the thing.

_Cleaning._

With a wave of her hand, water gushed down the walls, pulling down dust and cobwebs in its wake. The water dried as soon as it hit the ground, where a very tiny tornado swept around the corners to chivvy all the dust to a central pile, which promptly disappeared into the itty-bitty Face Rift she cracked open with her Anchor.

Under any other circumstances, she would have been exhausted from so much staffless magic. At the moment, she was back to feeling normal, aside from the lingering taste of ashes in her mouth that meant the lyrium had all been consumed. Cullen seemed, if not better, at least more stable. He was still sweating, and he eyed the former Fade Rift a little nervously, but he'd stopped looking like a starving man begging for water.

"Handy spell. I hope the demons enjoy my dust." Cullen pushed himself up to stand, apparently thinking they were done. "Shall we play chess?"

There was no way in the Void that Ali was going to let him off the hook. "How long have you been without it?"

"This can be one of those things we don't every talk about again, okay?" He tried to smirk at her, but it twisted into a grimace of pain as he staggered against the desk.

She darted over to help him, but he shook off her hands roughly. Undeterred, she said, "No, I really think we're going to talk about it now."

He swallowed, trying again to stand. "Since Kirkwall. Since the day Cassandra came to recruit me." He stopped talking, but she prodded him with a look. Sighing, he continued. "I was leaving the Order, and I wanted to be able to really leave it. It's been fine, really. I told her on the ship to Haven, and since then, she's... helped, as needed."

"Maker, why didn't you tell me?" Ali wanted to wail and scream, but with effort, she kept her voice calm. She needed to get answers, and that meant she couldn't make it about her, couldn't give him an opening to turn this around and try to comfort her.

He'd given up on trying to stand and slowly sank to the floor, mindless of the rough stone wall scraping his skin. "I didn't know you. And then I did know you, and I didn't want you to..." His eyes were fever-bright, and he couldn't seem to find the words. He rubbed his eyes harshly and steeled himself. "I didn't want you to look at me like a Templar."

Ali was having trouble keeping up - this was not at all the conversation she'd expected to be having when she walked in, and the rapid intake and outtake of lyrium had left her a little dizzy. "Cullen, sweetheart, the first conversation we ever had was when I asked you to Caution me."

"No!" He slapped his hands hard against the stone floor and Ali winced in sympathy. "How did you know that a phylactery can hurt a mage?”

Inside Ali's head, several things suddenly clicked into place. Fact - his first overture of friendship led to her losing her shit at the reappearance of her phylactery. Fact - Cullen never brought up their time in the Circles. Fact - this man would rather walk through fire than cause her a moment of pain. Fact - she was an idiot for not putting this together before now, for not asking him about his lyrium intake, for not realizing that he held his sword pommel to hide shaking fingers that she'd seen before, for not making it clear that there was nothing he couldn't ask her, no burden she wouldn't shoulder for him.

These were not the circumstances she would have picked to tell this story, but there was no other choice. Carefully, she knelt so their faces were more on the level. “I was twenty-two. His name was Sir Eldritch. Do you want to know what happened? I'll tell you, but it isn't a pretty story." At his nod, she continued. “He was sent to do a check of the Templars in our circle, and to investigate our holdings. From the first, we Mages knew there was something wrong with him. He had hungry eyes, and roving hands. He was particularly fond of Morag, who was a thirteen year old elf - and as sweet and lovely a girl as you could ever hope to meet. I spent a lot of time in the kitchens, and I overheard them one day. He was... prepping her."

The floor was making her knees ache, so she tipped back to sit against the desk, taking the moment to collect herself. Even now, after all these years, this story made her eyes burn and her throat lump up. "I wanted to keep Morag safe from him, so I spoke to our Knight-Commander. He was a good man, and he did his best to protect the mages under his care. He understood the danger, and took steps to safeguard Morag and all the youngest mages. He came up with a meditation ritual that involved them being sequestered until the next full moon, which would coincidentally be after Eldritch left."

"So what happened?" Cullen's voice broke on the last word, but he was sitting up straight again, hooked into the story.

"I don't know how he knew it was me, but he did. Since he couldn't take revenge on the Knight-Commander, he came for me. He'd been checking our phylactery vault that day, and he took mine with him. He came to my room that night, and... well whatever he did with that vial, it was nothing I'd ever felt before. I could barely draw breath, and I couldn't summon the strength to stand. He stood over me and called me horrible things. He told me I was worth less than nothing, that I shouldn't be able to breathe the same air as him. I honestly don't know if he hated me more for being a mage or for being a woman."

"After a while, he rucked up my robes and tried to mount me, but he couldn't, he was unable to... He blamed me for that too, said I was too ugly to even be of use as a whore. I knew that wasn't true - I was just too old for him, which was... worse, I think, than if he'd just raped me."

"Did he leave?"

Ali leaned over and squeezed Cullen's hands. "No, but I'm nearly done. He beat me then, but I grew up with brothers, and this was an old man corrupted by lyrium, so he didn't give me anything I couldn't take, and he tired quickly. He warned me never to speak of it to anyone, or he would see me made Tranquil."

"What did you do?"

She snorted. "Told everyone, of course. Or at least, the Grand Enchanter and the Knight Commander. They cleaned me up and sent me on my way with assurances that it would all be okay."

"Was it?"

The memory brought a cruel smile to her face. "Not for him. He was dead by the next sunset."

Cullen's hands tightened on hers, almost painfully, but she didn't stop. "I don't know exactly what happened, but they found him in the lyrium stores. He'd overdosed, gone right through half our stock. He'd altered the records to make it look like we were short, so the word was that he'd been doing it to other Circles too. Our Templars had to go on half-rations for a while, and a few of the younger ones stopped entirely until we were restocked. They must have known what happened - none of them ever gave a word of complaint. I saw the withdrawals then, although none of them made it as far as you. "

A shudder went through him, and she realized he was close to tears. "Lady, I didn't know. If I had, I would never have -"

"Cullen, shut up." She leaned over even further, wrapping her hands around his head and forcing his eyes to meet hers. "You asked me once if it bothered me that you were a Templar and it _doesn't_. Ser Eldritch was a monster, but that had nothing to do with his armor. It's comforting to think that you can judge good and evil by something as simple as Mages and Templars, or Commoner and Noble, but you _can'ti_. There are bad people in this world but there are good ones too. My Knight-Commander believed me when I told him, and protected me and the other Mages from harm. I loved that old man like he was my own father, and he would have loved you."

His eyes were big, and she realized what that last statement might have meant to him. "You are a good man, and you were good Templar in bad Orders. Yes, you made bad decisions, and yes, you should learn from your mistakes and do better going forward. I know it was hard going for a long time, but I have never doubted that you are a man who takes responsibility for others above himself, that you will choose kindness over power. You aren't a cruel man, or a mean man. You're my best friend, and it isn't because you're handsome, or smart or good at bashing down doors. You're my best friend because you have a strong heart."

Those last words seemed to break something in him, and he pitched forward, crumpling into her arms. Carefully she pulled him down until he was lying across her lap. She leaned back against his desk, glad her dress was thick enough to insulate her from the cold stone floor. It didn't seem like he was crying, but he had his face buried in the crook of her knee, and he clenched handfuls of her skirt in tight fists as his whole body shook. All she could do was sit there, rubbing his back and singing nonsense songs under her breath.

Eventually he stilled, then rolled over, keeping his eyes averted and moving to sit up. She laid an arm across his chest, keeping him prone for the time being. "Shh Cullen, its okay. Are you up for discussing some things?" He nodded, finally looking at her face. She did her best to look understanding and non-threatening. Keeping one hand on his chest to measure his heart rate, she smoothed his hair back with the other, stealthy checking the temperature of his forehead. Both were much closer to normal, so she decided it was okay to be honest with him.

"From a professional standpoint, we cannot easily replace you as Commander. No one else has your experience, or your reputation. If Cassandra feels that you are a liability, we will move you to a symbolic role, and find someone else to lead the troops, but I do not foresee this happening. If you decide it is too much, you may leave the Inquisition altogether."

"As for the lyrium, I admire what you are doing, and personally, I think it is absolutely the right decision. When you get through this, you will still have your abilities, but you won't be leashed to anyone, which is something to aspire too. However, if you decide to take lyrium again, I will not hate you for it, nor will I judge you. I will worry for you, and I will be sad for you. Right now though, I must admit that I am still a little angry at you."

That surprised him, and she felt his heart rate intensify, although his only movement was slight wince as he whispered, "You have every right to be -"

"I'm not finished. I am angry with you because by your own admission, you are trying to do this by yourself, with only Cassandra to help you. She isn't here most of the time, and Blackwall didn't know enough to help. You should have told me months ago."

At this, he did sit up, looking a little angry himself. "What could you have done?"

"Me? Nothing at all except listen to you. But you're living in a fortress that includes, among others; a Grand Enchanter, an expert on demons and the Fade, a Tevinter Magister, a Spirit of Compassion and oh yes, a fucking _Circle trained arcanist_ who is making a lifelong study of lyrium. Do you really think that none of them would be able to help you?"

Cullen bit his lip and averted his eyes, ashamed. His voice was almost a whisper. "I didn't want to be a bother."

"Oh Maker, you have to stop breaking my heart like this." Ali crawled across the floor and gripped his face again. "Cullen, I am going to tell you this, and I want you to try to hear it. I know you can hear the lyrium singing, all the time, calling you back to it, saying you are nothing without it. But I am the Inquisitor and the Herald of Andraste, and you owe me more fealty than you ever owed it. Understand?"

He just stared at her with big round eyes, which she decided to take as agreement. "You have friends in Skyhold, real friends, true friends, and you can ask us for anything. Every day we lay our lives down for each other, and you are a part of that too. You are not an imposition and you are not a burden. We take care of each other, remember?"

His breath quickened as she spoke, but he didn't shy away again. Instead, very tentatively he raised his arms to wrap around her, pulling her down to sit between his legs. He kept his arms around her and leaned back against the wall, clutching her to his chest like a child would clutch a beloved toy to ward off monsters. His breath was warm on top of her head as he spoke. "Can we just sit like this for a while? And then we'll go see Dagna?"

She smiled and slid her arms around his back, returning the hug. "Sure honey. We can sit here for as long as you want."


	21. Chapter 21

Cullen had seen firsthand that Alinora had walked through the Fade unharmed. He'd seen her survive the ruin of Haven, wake from a freeze that should have killed her and live to tell tale of the Tevinter Magister who climbed from the dead to pursue a chance at Godhood. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised to find that she could handle a case of lyrium withdrawal with her trademark mix of poise and irreverence.

When they'd finally roused themselves from his office floor, she'd whisked him off to the Undercroft and left him in the somewhat terrifying care of Dagna, who'd immediately asked for samples to analyze to measure the lyrium content of his body. Ali slipped away sometime between the bloodletting and the spitting, leaving him in the tender mercies of the Arcanist.

Dagna sent him away after a few hours with an amulet that she said would help, and he'd slunk out to the kitchens to try to scrounge some dinner. Coincidentally, Bull and Dorian were sitting there engrossed in a chess game, picking at a plate of savories. It had seemed entirely natural to sit with them a moment, to share their meal and play a few games. When he woke up the next morning in his bed, with no recollection of how he'd gotten there, he realized exactly why the water had tasted a little sweet the night before. He wasn't concerned that they'd drugged him, more just curious about how exactly Bull had managed to carry him up the ladder and fit his horns through the trapdoor in the floor.

The coincidences kept on coming over the next few days. Solas mentioned in passing that he'd started brewing a new kind of herbal tea for relaxation, and oh yes, he would like the Commander to try it in case it would be of use to the troops.

Bull was worried about the Chargers going a little soft with all their downtime, and asked if they could run training drills for the troops for a few weeks, purely as a favor. His troops enjoyed the variety, so he could hardly begrudge them that his schedule suddenly freed up.

Dorian wanted to set up a chess tournament at Skyhold, but decided he needed more practice. It was an imposition, he apologized, but would Cullen mind terribly if they played more often? And oh yes, it was important that he tell this terribly hilarious story, just to get it off his chest, please and thank you, and oh I happened to remember another funny story, would you mind?

Sera started popping by his office to ask him questions about Andraste. They were consistently crude and poorly stated, but she wouldn't let up until he answered her. If it meant he had to start reading the Chant regularly, well, that was what happened when you dig down deep into your faith.

Varric just so happened to get a letter from Aveline, which had lots of tidbits of gossip about his friends from the Guard in Kirkwall, and it was nice to hear of the marriages and babies that had been born since he saw them. He found himself looking forward to hearing more, and even wrote a letter or two to speed the process along.

Leliana was feeling cooped up in the rookery, and frequently wanted to go for long rides in the countryside. She had some concerns about being out there alone, and insisted that Cullen come along 'to protect her from bears'. They never saw any bears, but he enjoyed the sunshine, even if she only ever brought bottles of barley twilsey to drink.

Josephine declared she didn't know enough about their supply lines, and the nobles were taking advantage of her ignorance. It was utterly imperative (according to her) that she spend time dealing with the requisitions to better understand the needs of the Inquisition.

Cassandra bluntly informed him that the practice dummies were proving too easy an opponent, and she required him to spar with him every day. It would help her, she claimed, if he would present a selection of fighting styles, so he borrowed a greatsword from the armory and went to it. Remembering old fighting rhythms and using his muscles in a different way left him feeling pleasantly fatigued at the end of every fight.

Vivienne was suddenly concerned that her meditation rituals could cause a spike in her mana. For the safety of everyone, she explained, it would be better if she had a Templar present. For her sake, he spent an hour every morning sitting across from her in a circle of crystals and chanting, and so what if he learned to empty his mind of all thoughts for a few glorious minutes every day?

Blackwall started a study of the fifth blight, and the use of siege technology against the Archdemon. Since it wouldn't be appropriate for him to write directly to the King of Ferelden, he enlisted Cullen to act as a go between. This lead to many long debates about the merits of trebuchets vs. ballistas, but these were things that had to be settled, for the good of the army.

Cole started giving long ramblings about the value of money and why he didn't want it. Cullen found coins from all over Thedas tucked away in his boots, his drawers, and once, to his great concern, his smallclothes.

And Alinora... well, Ali was everywhere. She stayed at Skyhold for several weeks, taking no trips that would delay her for more than a night. Every morning, she met him for breakfast and would ask, in a very casual way, if he would do her a favor and not drink lyrium that day. The first time she did it, he nearly choked in shock, but she just continued eating like nothing was wrong. When he sputtered out an agreement, she thanked him politely and said he could take it tomorrow, if he chose to.

During the day she was usually preoccupied, consumed with the business of being the Inquisitor. Still, she always managed to find a reason to tackle him for a hug, or drop by with a particularly nice bit of candy that someone had sent to her. She was never overbearing, never tried to bring up painful conversations. She was just present on the edge of his consciousness, always there if he needed her.

Every night, when he went to shut the door to his office, she would wave at him from where she was reading on her balcony. She never went in first - he knew she waited until he blew out the candle before she retired for the evening. On one of his tougher days, he didn’t wave back, just stood at the door and stared at her across the courtyard. She disappeared into the keep before popping out of Solas’ rotunda, knitting in hand. They sat together quietly in his office for for hours, until the clicking of her needles finally lulled him to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, neatly tucked in on his office floor, he found a new scarf next to him, knitted in soft brown wool.

Everyone behaved as if this behavior was completely ordinary and he was happy to play along. For the first time since he was a boy, he was starting to understand what it might feel like to be normal, to be at peace in his own skin. If they'd come at him with platitudes and overt offers of assistance, he would have begrudged them for it. But this sort of help he could accept. This felt like everyone watching out for each - other offering assistance and taking it in kind.

He  knew this couldn't last forever, and it didn't. A few weeks after she'd returned from the Western Approach, she had to leave again for the Exalted Plains. The trip had been pending for a long time, and news of Solas' endangered friend pushed things to a breaking point.

He saw her off the morning that she left. There was no way to put his gratitude into words, so he didn't even try. As she led her horse out in the pre-dawn light, he handed her a bundle of breakfast rolls straight from the oven. She was still bleary-eyed from waking, but she managed to smile in thanks. He explained that he would be fine, that he would hold fast until she returned and she shouldn't rush on his account, but if she didn’t mind, he had one small  request. He didn't want to stay up late hoping for her return, so she was to come see him, wake him up if necessary whenever she got home. She agreed, patting him on the cheek. He kissed her forehead lightly, just in case, and sent her on her way.

*****

Seven weeks later, Ali trudged up the stairs to Cullen's office. It was well into third watch, and she didn't want to be spotted by any soldiers that might raise the flag that she'd returned. The Plains had been full of arduous errands, and she was dearly looking forward to some sleep.

Still, she'd promised. She hoisted herself up the ladder and into the bedroom at the top of it. She'd never been up here before, and her first thought was to wonder why anyone would sleep with a hole in their roof. She stepped forward and saw the stars illuminated in the night sky, and wondered a little less.

Cullen was sprawled face down, face slack, snoring slightly. She stood silently for a moment, taking in the scene. He must have had a nightmare at some point since the sheets were tangled around his legs, but his sleep looked dreamless at the moment. He wore no shirt, and the moonlight glowed on his back, illuminating old scars but doing nothing to hide the long, lean lines of his muscles. She’d always thought him handsome, but it was rare to see him without his armor, and she took a beat to enjoy the sight. He looked so young in his repose, and with a bittersweet feeling, she realized that this was the man he would have been if he'd never been a Templar, been spared the ravages of horror and war.

Taking in the rest of the room, she spied a goblet on the small table by his bed. She crept over and sniffed at the dregs, relieved to discover only the sharp smell of Solas’ herbs and no trace of alcohol. As she set the goblet back down, her fingers brushed something soft - the scarf she’d made him, draped over the headboard where he might reach out in the night and grasp it. She was touched that he’d understood her gesture - that crafting it for him was an act of love and comfort.

A wave of relief spread across her as she suddenly realized that she was really home. She was lonely though, feeling like the only one awake in Skyhold, and she was starting to feel a little creepy about watching him sleep. She'd caught him napping at his desk enough times to know how to wake him safely. Gently, she reached out and tapped his right shoulder, trying to ignore his lack of shirt. He stirred a little, but didn't wake so she tapped him again, a little harder.

That did the trick, and his eyes fluttered open. There was no trace of alarm on his face - he recognized her immediately. His smile was big and sleepy as he reached out to clasp her hand, covering the glow of the anchor. She threaded her fingers through his and reached out with the other hand to smooth the hair back from his brow, noting to herself that she needed to make him get a haircut soon.

Suddenly shy, she wasn’t sure what to say to him. Finally she went with the obvious and whispered, “I’m back.”

Voice husky from sleep, he murmured, "Welcome home, lady. I missed you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a long one, so there may be some delays getting it up. I couldn't make the transition to the next phase of the story work, so I wrote this as short bridge, but then it expanded into a chapter of its very own. 
> 
> I hope you all don't mind if the chapter count gets longer for the story... *shrugs*


	22. Chapter 22

_Autumn or not, it is fucking cold!_

Grumpily, Ali pulled her cloak tighter around her body and said as much to Sera, who was leaning over the tower wall at a precarious angle, a spyglass pressed to her eye as she tried to see if the horizon looked like snow. The other girl snorted in reply, but didn't respond.

Ali prayed for good news. This was a really inopportune time for the weather to shift. Plans for Adamant Fortress were moving along, but they'd reached an impasse about siege equipment. Several nobles had pledged the use of their trebuchets and catapults, but kept dithering when it came time to actually send them. Ali had reached a breaking point the week before and ordered Josephine to go straighten it out in person.

She'd originally assigned Cullen the task of escorting her to Denerim, but Leliana had interceded, claiming a need to check in with King Alistair about the Wardens. No doubt that was true, but Ali suspected other motives at play. She knew Zevran was somewhere in the Free Marches, and if he wanted to try to sneak into Denerim to see Leliana - well, he is an Antivan Crow and can probably take care of himself. It had been a long time since the sometime lovers had seen each other, and Ali couldn't begrudge Leliana for needing some time to herself.

Blackwall and Cassandra joined the group as protection on the road, and most of her other friends found reasons to tag along. Of course the typical component of soldiers and merchants had headed out too, which left Skyhold feeling blessedly empty for a change.

Sera flipped herself upright over the wall and immediately wormed her way under Ali's cloak. "Wind's a changing for sure. All flat white out there, gonna snow."

Ali huffed, blowing on her hands to try to warm them up.  "Let's get everyone into the tavern. We'll need to get organized and start closing everything up."

This wasn't the first snowstorm they'd had in Skyhold during what should be early autumn. Solas had explained it all once, how the Frostbacks somewhat protected them from the highest frozen peaks, but only until the wind came in just so, bringing frost and ice to the fortress. They often woke to a light dusting of powder across the stones, but even a few inches piled up would melt easily in the afternoon sun. Today seemed extra cold though, and distant clouds were ominously opaque. Sadly, this looked like it would be a full-scale blizzard.

The two women made their way to the bottom of the stairs where Cullen was waiting, keeping himself out of the wind. As soon as they touched the ground, Sera hopped over to him and snuggled under his big fur mantle.

"It's going to be a bad storm." Ali said, trying to get her back to the wind. "Can you get your men to start spreading grit on the walls? We need to check the windows in all the spare rooms too - I think some of them were just painted, so they may be open."

Cullen nodded. "I'm going to send most of the patrols down the mountain before the bridge closes - Maker's Breath Sera, what are you _doing_?"

In an attempt to get even warmer, Sera was trying to climb Cullen like a tree. Ali couldn't help but giggle at the sight of her friend nearly upside down as she tried to shimmy around to his back without putting her feet back on the cold ground. Finally, she managed it and her hat-clad head popped out from the neck of his mantle.

Cullen was remarkably nonchalant about having to carry the elf piggy-back across the courtyard, and hooked his arms under her knees to hitch her up higher. Sera gave Ali a sidelong look and muttered, "You gonna get jealous on me what with taking your man for a ride and all?"

Ali reached out and poked Sera hard in the side. "We've been over this a few times, lovey. Cullen and I are not sleeping together, and there's no way you can trick us into it."

Sera stuck out her tongue, but didn't seem inclined to argue, for which Ali was profoundly grateful. Instead, she was thoughtful and wrapped her arms around Cullen's neck. "If you don't want Quiz, who'll keep your bits warm tonight? Dwarf says you ain't had a woman since Kirkwall."

His face went utterly blank of all emotion and he stopped in his tracks. Very carefully and with a controlled voice he said, "Sera, that is not something you want to talk to me about."

"Why not? I thought you were all about the talking these days." Sera licked the end of her finger and before Ali could stop her, stuck it in Cullen's ear.

That was a step too far, and his anger caught like kindling. He reached back and hauled Sera over his shoulder far enough to look her dead in the eye. "Do you want to hear all about the demons that kept me captive for days?!? Do you want to know about the Desire Demon that found me again in Kirkwall?" He shook her by the scruff of her neck, demanding "Do you?!?"

Ali had no idea what to do. She knew he had nightmares, and she'd put together that they had something to do with the demons in the Ferelden Circle, but the Desire Demon was a new detail, and one she was pretty sure he hadn't meant to share. Still, it probably wouldn't do them any good to get into a shouting match about it in the middle of the courtyard where anyone could see it.

Just as she was about to intercede, Cullen loosened his grip and allowed Sera to slide back to her former perch. "Apologies friend. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, but this isn't a topic we should discuss." He shot a glance Ali's way that seemed to ask her not to comment, and she was more than willing to oblige.

Instead of a typically sarcastic reply, Sera seemed somber for once. "Didn't know it was like that, all serious and real. You don't need a woman anyways, does he Quiz?"

This was not a conversation that Ali wanted to be in any way a part of. No matter how charmed she was whenever she saw Cullen and Sera acting like siblings, she couldn't think of how answering that question that would end well for her. Besides there was a blizzard to prepare for. Sighing, she shook her head. "No, he needs to get his soldiers spreading grit on the walls. And you, my darling Red Jenny, need to check that all the servants have a warm place to sleep tonight. I'll start on the windows."

*****

A few hours later, the blizzard was in full swing. Snow was piling up at an alarming rate, and visibility was almost zero.  They keep was locked down, and all the people in Skyhold were tucked away neatly in the tavern. Well, all the people but two. Solas was asleep in his rotunda, and Ali was in the kitchen, making herself a grilled cheese sandwich and sipping a restoration potion. She had a long night planned, and didn't want to sleep through any of it.

It wasn't that she wouldn't have had fun in the tavern, but the thought of getting stuck there all night was far less appealing than a night spent in her own room. True, she would be working on the billions of thank-you notes that she was overdue on sending, but the thought of a quiet evening sipping tea and snacking seemed like the perfect way to ride out this storm.

Her musings were interrupted by the door slamming open behind her. She whirled around, clutching her sandwich to her chest protectively. For an instant, she thought a snow monster had come down from the mountains, like something out of a Chasind legend.

But no, it was just her absolutely snow-encrusted Commander who was spitting out curses and stamping his boots in an odd little jig. When he looked up and saw her standing by the hearth, a slow creeping blush spread up his face, visible above his muffler, and he paused with one leg still raised.

"I thought you don't dance," she said at last.

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head back and forth, sending bits of snow spinning across the room. "I don't. That was a traditional Fereldan invocation to the gods of snow and thunder. You wouldn't know it. What are you eating?"

She dutifully broke the sandwich in half and held it out. He ate it in two bites, then explained, "Someone closed the portcullis. If it froze shut, we'd be stuck here for days. I went to open it, and it seemed easier to come here for food then to make my way to the tavern."

"Ah." Ali was, in fact, familiar with the layout of Skyhold, and knew that was total bullshit. From the portcullis, he could have cut through the walls and gone to the tavern without ever stepping outside. Still, she appreciated the company and decided to leave him his convenient excuses, and offer him another. "I'm off to my room to do some work. Come on up and I'll make you a cuppa?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow will be a direct continuation of this chapter. Right now it is super long, so I may have to chop it up again.


	23. Chapter 23

As they climbed the stairs up to her quarters, Ali bit her lip and tried to hold back her questions. All afternoon, the academic side of her brain had been whirling about Cullen's demon situation. She itched to get her fingers into some dusty old tomes on the topic and debate her theories with other mages. That impulse had to be resisted - this wasn't a hypothetical situation posited in a seminar, this was her living, breathing best friend who had been living in a nightmare for what... years?

"Has it really been since Kirkwall?" The question slipped out, unbidden. She was immediately horrified, and her face got hot. "Nevermind, you don't need to answer that."

Cullen lifted his eyebrow at her, and though his face was still mostly covered, he didn't seem upset. "I wondered how long you could go without asking." He politely pulled her bedroom door open for her. "It has been, yes. I always had nightmares, but a few months before the explosion, a demon from the Ferelden Circle found me. She started haunting my dreams, and it was hard to tell if I was awake or asleep. I was afraid that if I sought out... companionship, I might hurt someone by accident."

"Oh." Ali was a little lightheaded by the thought of him struggling with this over the long months in Haven and Skyhold. "Is it still so bad then?"

He shrugged, and his icy armor creaked in protest. "Going off the lyrium has helped. I only have the dreams every week or so. Sometimes I even know that I'm dreaming, during."

She needed a little time to decide how to respond to that, so she crossed her room and started a pot of tea. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Cullen move towards the fire, and realized just how frozen through he must be.

"Get your kit off, boy." Ali decided not to even try to negotiate this. If she gave him an out, his sense of propriety would win over his need to be warm. She popped into her bathroom and turned the water on lukewarm, knowing even that would feel scalding on his skin. When she came out, he was still standing fully dressed in front of the fire.

"Gone suddenly modest, have you? Or are you afraid I'm trying to seduce you?"

"Neither." His good humor was back and he smirked at her. "I think I'd notice if you were trying to seduce me. My hands are just too cold to get my buckles off."

Belatedly, Ali realized that he was wearing his armor under his outer layers. She moved to help him, stripping off his snow-crusted mantle. His armor was very cold, and the leather buckles had indeed gone very stiff. She finally got them undone and pulled his breastplate over his head, staggering under the weight of it.

"Maker, how do you walk around in this all day?"

He chuckled. "I'm very strong. And a good thing too, or I couldn't have carried your arse out of Haven."

Ali blushed at the reminder, grateful her back was to him as she put his armor on the stand. "Well, consider this me returning the favor then. Shall we get Varric up here to cuddle for warmth?"

"Thank you, but a bath will do just fine." He stood still as she stripped off the rest of his armor and clothing, only stopping her at his last layer of undershirt and breeks. "Now I am getting modest. I can take it from here."

Handing him a towel, she pointed at the bathroom. "Pass them out so I can dry them."

He squelched towards the bath and closed the door to a crack, then tossed out his clothes and slammed the door home. Luckily, her repertoire of domestic magic also included some laundry spells, so his things were dry and warm a moment later. She heard some splashing and a muffled oath, then a long groan when the shower started. Apparently, Cullen was also delighted by the instant access to hot water.

By the time he came out, she had settled herself at the desk with a cup of tea and a stack of notes to write. He emerged pink from the heat, towel wrapped around his waist. She tossed him his clothes, and tried to ignore his bare chest and the flash of thigh where the towel gaped. He caught her looking and made a haughty face. "Turn around you wee pervert. I'm not changing in front of you."

Ali laughed and did as ordered, taking the time to pour him a cup of tea. Once he was dressed, he dragged another chair to the desk and settled himself. "What are we working on, then?"

Grateful for the help, she showed him the form letter Josie had left, and the list of people they were writing to. They got to it, sipping tea and not speaking, just letting the evening settle around them, enjoying the comfort of having a friend to share the work.

*****

“I met one you know. In my Harrowing.” Cullen looked up from his papers when she spoke, not quite sure what she meant. In fact, she wasn’t quite sure why she had brought this up right now, except that maybe this was something he needed to hear, and she couldn't hold the words in any longer.

Ali kept her eyes firmly down. “A desire demon. When I was Harrowed, he was the one who came for me. It isn’t the same as what you went through, and I’m not saying they're anywhere close to comparable, but I do have some inkling of what they’re capable of.”  
  
Cullen set his quill down very carefully. “What happened?”  
  
“It was mostly what I expected at first.” She tried to remember the specific order of events from that long-ago day. “The Knight-Commander gave me the lyrium, and I fell asleep in the Harrowing Chamber. The Fade wasn't so bad really, just a little misty and soggy. I knew that I had to pass some kind of test, so I picked a direction and started walking. Before too long, a man fell in next to me.”  
  
“He was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, in life or in dreams. He shouldn’t even have existed; he was so pretty - which was clearly a sign that he was a demon, although I didn't realize it at first. He started talking to me, and he told me that I had passed my harrowing and that he was my reward. He started making me offers of ‘pleasure beyond price,' and it was like he knew every lustful thought I'd ever had, and he was offering me all of it. I was so damn turned on at the time, but it's sort of funny, looking back at it. He tried to offer me all the things I wanted. I wasn't technically a virgin, but I didn’t really have enough knowledge about sex or boys to even know what was out there so he was offering things like... kissing my nipples. It must have been a very vanilla day for him.”  
  
That made Cullen smile, at least a little bit. “What did you do?”  
  
“Well, I figured that if I had passed my Harrowing, I wouldn't still be in the Fade, so that clued me in that something wasn't right. I was trying to organize my thoughts like we’re taught to do when he leaned in to kiss me. That managed to frighten me enough that… I set his hair on fire. It turned out to be a pretty good way to break his glamour, and he got a lot easier to resist when I saw his true form.”  
  
“So you passed then?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Clearly. But that’s not the point of the story. About a month later, one of the other mages cornered me in the hallway and kissed me. I’d had a crush on him for a while and was perfectly willing to be kissed. It didn’t matter though. As soon as he got close to me, it felt like my whole body revolted, and I very nearly threw up in his mouth.”  
  
“Oh, Ali. That poor boy.”  
  
“I know. He more or less understood when I explained what had happened, and he sent me to talk with one of the older mages, and she sent me to talk to this old bitch of a mage that lived in one of the towers. She was probably a hundred years old, and the meanest woman I ever met, right? So I head up there and spill my whole story out, and she just laughs in my face. But then she tells me something, and here’s the thing I learned, that I want you to pay attention to. This is why I’m telling you this story, and you need to remember it. Are you ready?”  
  
Cullen nodded.  
  
Ali leaned forward across the desk and whispered, “Desire Demons smell _terrible_.” She laughed at Cullen’s expression before leaning back and continuing, “When you meet someone you like in a pants-feelings way, you always like the way they smell, or else you don’t want to rub their skin all over yours. Demons don’t know how to fake that. They might look like a person, sound like them, even taste like them, but the smell will never be right. They always have an undercurrent of rotten eggs and offal under whatever flowery bullshit they try to sell you. That’s how you know.”  
  
“Maker’s breath, if it was that simple someone would have told me that before now.” Cullen said grumpily.  
  
“Well, yes and no. I mean, you always say that you have problems with demons, and you never say what kind, right?”  
  
Cullen nodded slowly, not seeing where she was going with this.  
  
“Most demons, when they torment you, go straight for the hard nightmare scenario - you know, like rivers of blood and your guts spilling out. Desire demons... they're insidious. It’s like - I would want someone, and dream about him and it would be great. Sometimes though, the demon comes and steps into the dream, and it isn't right anymore. It’s hard to tell the difference between what I'm really thinking about and what they're supplying. With other demons, you know what they are from the start, and you never need to see through them.”  
  
“Okay, that I understand. Do you still have dreams though?” He was looking more hopeful now.  
  
“So that's where the smelling comes in. If I'm dreaming about a man, he smells good. When a demon breaks through, I know it. And yes, I still have bad dreams on occasion and I know that they aren’t real, but that doesn’t always make them stop.”  
  
Cullen was silent for a moment, staring down blankly at the report he held. “I -. Thank you. Really and truly. It would be lovely if I didn't have to fear falling asleep.”  
  
The look on his face made Ali want to cry, so she cleared her throat instead. “You should work on the rest of it though, too. The sex stuff I mean. You’re too handsome to spend the rest of your life afraid of seeing girly parts.”  
  
“Hey!” He snapped his head up, offended now. “I’m not afraid of seeing them, I just haven’t…” Cullen made a sort of squishing motion with his hands.  
  
“Oh really? Name one lecherous thought you’ve had since we’ve arrived at Skyhold.”  
  
“Well, sometimes Josephine reaches across the War table at just the right angle, and I can almost see down her blouse.”  
  
“Ha!” That genuinely surprised Ali. “That barely counts, although I will grant you that Josie has lovely breasts.”  
  
He smirked at her from across the desk. ”Your turn then. Name one of your lecherous thoughts.”  
  
“Oh, the lad wants to play at Questions? Fine, okay, let's see, let's see... a lecherous thought.” Ali tapped her chin as if lost in thought. “I assume you aren't interested in any thoughts I've had about you or your scar?”  
  
“Maker forbid! Juicy gossip about others, thanks very much.”  
  
“Alright, alright. Ooh, remember last week when it was really hot? Your troops were doing training on unarmed combat, and Leliana and I spent a delightful half hour watching from my balcony as sweaty half naked men grappled with each other.”  Trying to move quickly past that subject, she said brightly “Your turn! What completely improper crush do you have? You know, the pointless one that you'd never do anything about?”  
  
He pressed his lips together for a moment before admitting, “Scout Harding. She's just so.... cute. I just want to stare at her and count all her freckles. What about you?”

“Well, as far as impossible crushes go, I'd have to say Krem. He's always so in control of things. It makes me wonder what he's like when he lets it all go.”  
  
“Why is that impossible? From what I've heard, you're just his type.”  
  
Ali goggled at him. “You haven't heard? Oh Maker. Mine is impossible for the same reason yours is. Krem and Harding are...” she started making the same squishy hand gestures he'd used a moment before. “It's quite the scandal in the tavern.”  
  
“Malerfeth's balls.” Cullen shook his head. “There goes my last hope. My question now - when was the last time you had sex?"

That was an easy one. "Back in the Circle with a trader named Kai. Nice man, but nothing special. You?"

"Woman in Kirkwall who went by Duchess." Cullen grinned at her across the table. "Nice woman, but nothing special. New question then -”  
  
“Hey now, no skipping turns. You have to answer now - was Dorian the first man you ever kissed?"

He blinked at her and she could see a lie pass over his face before he shook it away. "No, he wasn't. But I was very young and very drunk. And you?"

"Oh, I've kissed lots of men. And women." Ali smiled and waited a second before continuing. "Everyone kissed everyone in the Circle. We had to make our own fun, as it were. I always preferred men though."

"Fair enough." He leaned back and crossed his arms, contemplating his next turn. "Have you ever been in love?"

Well that was a surprising question, but one Ali could easily answer. "No."

Shocked, his eyebrows shot up. "That's it? Just no?"

"Yeah, that's it. I mean, I've loved lots of people, and had lots of crushes, but I've never been to that place of... whatever it is that all the songs and stories are about. And you?"

He mulled it over for a minute. "I'm not sure. There was a girl, years ago in my first Circle. Her name was Solana, and I certainly thought I was in love with her. Looking back at it now though, I think it may have just been youthful infatuation. My feelings for her had no depth, and they faded very quickly. So I guess my answer is also no."

"Well that was kind of a bust, wasn't it?" Ali tried to think of a good question, then grinned when she did. "Tell me about the best tits and ass you've ever seen."

“I believe that's two questions there, friend, but I'll play. As for tits, you've heard about Isabela, right?”  
  
“Maker yes, I have read the book. I got the whole story of her and Hawke and their torrid love affair. I also got the long descriptions of her... _assets_.”  
  
“Don't ever tell Varric this, but he sold her short in the book. Isabela's chest was like... I don't even have words. She just had these perfect, pillowy full....” Cullen cupped his hands in a weighing sort of motion. “I can't explain it. But they are spectacular. It’s the first thing I was ever jealous of Hawke for. How about you? Tits and ass aren't quite right, so make it whatever the male equivalent is.”  
  
“Well... Prince Sebastian is gorgeous, but he's a very particular type which mostly leaves me cold.” She paused for a moment, pouring them both more tea. “As far as the male equivalent goes, I'm going to have to go with... Alistair.”  
  
She'd timed her admission carefully, waiting until he'd taken a large sip of tea, and was not disappointed. Sadly, Cullen didn't quite manage the spit-take she'd been hoping for, but he did sputter and gasp. “You mean King Alistair? Champion of the Fifth Blight? You think _that guy_ is handsome?”  
  
Though she tried to keep a straight face, she couldn't quite stop a rather girlish giggle from escaping. “Honestly Cullen, you've met the man. He's gorgeous, and he has those shoulders... and those arms. I'd kneel before his throne any day.”  
  
True to form, Cullen grimaced at the innuendo, but his surprise had faded. “Well, I guess he's good enough for the Hero of Fereldan, who, but the way, would take you apart into itty-bitty pieces if she ever found out about this.”  
  
She made a hand waving motion to show that it didn't signify. “I'm not saying I'd really do anything - he's a King after all. But you asked what the man shaped equivalent of Isabela's tits is, and I'm saying King Alistair's manly biceps. All that sword waving and shield bashing really worked out for him.”  
  
Belatedly, Ali realized that her description of Alistair's assets could equally be applied to the very fine set of arms currently across the desk and rushed out a distraction before he noticed. “You didn't finish answering the question by the way. You answered about tits, but not who has the best butt around here.”  
  
Though he'd managed not to until now, a blush started to climb Cullen's face. “Umm.. do I have to be honest here?”  
  
Intrigued, she nodded firmly. “Always Commander. You know how I appreciate honesty.”  
  
“No titles. You.”  
  
“Me what? Answer the question.”  
  
He was almost entirely red cheeked now. “No, you have the best butt in all of Skyhold. Cassandra runs a close second, but you win it. I know we agreed to leave each other out of it, but this one really isn't flattery. Even Dorian agrees.”  
  
Better than Cassandra?!? Ali stood up and craned her head around instinctively, before realizing how ridiculous she must look. “Well, I'll accept the break in the rules just this once. Nice to know that I have other merits besides the rift in my hand.” Settling back down, the rest of what he'd said caught up with her. “Wait a minute, you talked about my ass with _Dorian_?!? Is this what you talk about over chess?”  
  
It would not have been surprising if Cullen's face had completely burst into flames, it was so red. “When you were gone with the ladies last, there was a night where there was... a lot of drinking among the men, and we were discussing... things. Bull said that he couldn't find a spankable ass amongst all the serving girls, and so then we started talking about spanking... and it all kind of devolved into a talk about bums. But in the end, you won, and we all felt very guilty for it later.”  
  
Ali broke out into peals of laughter at that, and by the time she'd calmed down, tears were streaming from her eyes. “Oh Maker, the look on your face. Like I'd be shocked and horrified the menfolk were talking. I've had almost that exact same conversation.”  
  
“What, really?” Cullen's eyebrows shot up.  ”About spanking?”  
  
“No, you moron. About butts. The last time I was at the Coast with the girls, we had a long chat about relative rankings of certain manly qualities. Even Sera joined in when we got to butts - she said that a great ass is a genderless miracle. Anyhow, the important thing is... you won.”  
  
That took a second to land, but when it did, a slow grin spread across Cullen's face. “Really? I beat everyone else? That is just... spectacular.” He reveled in it for a minute longer, before his grin faded. “My turn again, I think. Let's move away from looks for the moment. When did you first...” More squishing motions.  
  
"Haven't I told you about this?" She tipped her head, trying to remember. "No matter. I was fifteen. Some Templars stopped at the Circle with their charges, but they had this groom with them to take care of the horses. He was seventeen, thought I was cute, and he was neither a Mage nor a Templar. He fit the bill, and had very nice arms to boot. We got to talking and decided to just get the whole thing over and done with.”  
  
“How terribly romantic," he noted wryly.

“Yes, it was as romantic as 45 seconds in a horse stall can be.” Ali chewed on her lower lip for a moment before continuing. “See, virginity can be a dangerous thing for a mage, especially if you're a woman. You hear horror stories about demons and sacrifices, so I just figured I should get rid of it when the opportunity presented itself. Of course, we then started getting lectures on the dangers of too much 'sexual energy', so it was kind of a wash in the end. Still, Jerome was as good of a choice as any, really. What about you?”  
  
“Oh, I was a bit of a late bloomer compared to you. I was all of sixteen, and the one of the older Templars took some of the favored recruits to a brothel. I spent a delightful hour with Rosie, who was old enough to be my Mum.”  
  
“An hour? How very virile of you.”  
  
“Well the first five minutes were, but the rest was her giving me advice on what to do for various types of jock itch and how to properly get stains out of clothes. It was all very useful though.”  
  
They were both laughing now, and it took them a moment to calm down, though Ali was hiccuping slightly. “I think it’s my turn, although you don't have to answer this if it goes too far.”  
  
He leaned forward, “Are you challenging me, lady?”  
  
“No titles. And yes, I am. Here is my question. You say you haven't lain with anyone in over a year, and fine, I understand why Kirkwall made that problematic. But, can you still... handle things yourself? Does that cause the same problems?”  
  
Cullen interlaced his hands and pressed them to his nose, staring at her from over his knuckles. After a long moment, he propped them under his chin and started to speak. “Sometimes it’s a problem, for sure. But sometimes, I have days where the lyrium doesn't trouble me, and I've put in a long day of work. Then, usually, before I get too tired I can... ahem. And no, I will not tell you what I think about because some things have to stay private between a man and his own thoughts. And maybe Cole. What about you?”  
  
“Oh, Kirkwall has no effect on my activities,” she said smugly.  
  
“Ha bloody ha.” He looked almost predatory now. “Excesses of sexual energy can be dangerous you know. I think I would have heard if you'd taken a lover, so you must be doing something else. My question is, how often do you take yourself in hand? Or are you afraid to tell me?”  
  
Ali was totally unprepared for the rush of heat that pulsed through her belly at his question. She had felt some small stirrings of desire earlier when he was just in a towel and had ignored them like always. That last question though... his voice had dropped to something dark and husky, and he was looking at her like she was... something worth looking at.

“Ahem. I take care of myself whenever the opportunity presents itself, which, in case you are wondering, is very infrequently.” She smiled a demure, polite tiny grin. “Between my duties here, and the types of camps we have out there, I pretty much only handle things when I get the time to take a bath.”

Just like she knew they would, his eyes flicked over to the door to her bathroom where he had recently showered. His eyebrows rose and he mouthed a soundless 'oh'.  
  
Ali felt sudden guilt at teasing him. This might be the first time in years he'd discussed sex with anyone, and she shouldn't try to rile him up, not after what she'd discovered this evening. She pushed back from the desk and went to the window. It was fully dark outside, but she could see the glow of torches from the direction of the tavern. Everything was white and muffled, and her room felt like the warmest, coziest place in the world.  
  
“The snow isn't letting up at all. Should we try to get some more work done, or do you have any more burning questions?”  
  
From behind her, she could hear his chair squeak as he shifted his weight. When his voice came, it was tentative. “I do have something I’d like to know, but it’s very personal.”  
  
He joined her at the window, standing beside her without touching. His face was faintly reflected in the window as he looked out into the night with an indefinably sad expression, and as she watched, he shifted, making himself seem smaller, less imposing.  
  
“Cullen, I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Truly." Without turning her face, she reached her hand over and hooked her littlest finger around his. “Ask your question then, boy.”  
  
He swallowed, still staring out at the swirling snow. “If this wasn’t your life, if you were entirely free of debts and obligations, what would you do? Really?”  
  
A few dozen sarcastic and joking responses flicked through Ali’s head, but this wasn’t the time for jokes and this wasn’t the type of question to be flippant about. She decided to give him the true answer, the one she thought of late at night, the one she’d never told anyone else, fearing their mockery for the mundanity of it.  
  
“I think… no, I know what I would do. I would find a place that was warm and safe. Near the ocean. I would build a big inn, and run it for travelers and traders. There would be books there, and good food, and I would make my own cider from the fruit trees in the back. It would be clean, and well-lit, and a safe place to rest.”  
  
The reflection of his face closed its eyes and swallowed heavily as she continued, spilling details she’d never voiced before now. “I would have a loft to sleep in, maybe over the back garden. I would sleep on clean white linen, and sew a wardrobe of  soft, easy dresses to wear every day. I would never need to pin up my hair except when I made cookies. I would make the best cookies in all of Thedas, and Kings and Queens would stay with me just for them.”  
  
He smiled at the thought, then asked tentatively, “Wouldn't you be lonely?”  
  
“No. I would have all manner of friends, and my family would come and pester me all the time. And I would have a man.” This was the tricky part to share, but it felt disingenuous to stop now. She'd just be careful. “I would have a man. I don’t know who he is, or what he looks like. He’ll have calloused hands from hard work, and he doesn’t remember to get regular haircuts, so he always looks shaggy.  He smells good to me when he sweats. During the day he will  have errands of his own, but in the evening he helps in the tavern, pouring beer and telling jokes. And at night, go to the loft, where we fall asleep together, both of us safe and loved. We never marry, so every day we know we are together because we choose to be, not because of a vow. We have no children, but my nieces and nephews love to visit and call us  Auntie and Nuncle."  
  
Cullen had no reaction to this at first, so she tugged gently on his finger. “Why did you want to know this? It isn’t a future that will ever come to pass. I am the Inquisitor, and will be for a long long time.”  
  
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold window glass, eyes still closed. “I know. I just… all I ever wanted to be was a Templar, and every day that goes by takes me further away from that life.  Your future sounds lovely, but for me....” He took a long jagged breath, shoulders shuddering under his shirt. “I don’t even have a dream of what it might be.”  
  
Thinking hard, Ali tried to come up with a response to such a heartbreaking statement. "You were raised on a farm, right? Would you want to do that?"  
  
"You mean backbreaking work, and long days in the sun shoveling pigshit?"  
  
"No, it wouldn't be like that. This is a dream, remember?" Ideas were forming in her head, clicking into the puzzle of an imagined future. "You'll have a big farm, the kind that always gets the right amount of rain and you never have to shovel manure. You'll raise sheep for wool, and cows for cheese, and King Alistair will say you make the best cheese in Ferelden. You'll be married. Her name is Ruth, but you'll love her enough that it won't bother you that her name is Ruth Rutherford. She's small, with fine bones, and blonde curls, and tits like Isabela's. She's kind to animals and good at haggling. She makes wonderful tea, and loves you fiercely, and starts every morning with a kiss. And every season, you two come stay at my inn for a week while you sell your bounty. You will bring your children."  
  
He shook his head, just the barest fraction of movement. "No children."  
  
"Very well. Sometimes you and Ruth will come alone, and sometimes you'll bring the lads from your farm. Everyone will have a day to tromp around the shops and see the sights, and then you'll all come home for supper and songs. And after we close the tavern, you and Ruth will sit with me and my man, and we will play chess, and tell stories of our glory days in the Inquisition. Can you see it?"  
  
"Almost." His voice was a dry whisper hissed out through gritted teeth.  
  
Recognizing his need for privacy, Ali released his finger and moved back to the desk. After a moment, he slid into the seat across from her and picked up a report. His eyes were clear, and he had regained his composure.  
  
Neither one said anything for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two just love to talk, don't they. And yes, they're both lying through their teeth, both to each other and to themselves. Heh.


	24. Chapter 24

Cullen and Ali settled in to get some work done, and didn't say anything beyond bits of small talk for a long while. As they moved through the stack of parchment, the mood of the room gradually shifted from strained silence back to comfortable companionship.

 _Maybe too comfortable_ , Ali reflected as she watched Cullen try to stifle another yawn. She was still burning through the restoration potion from earlier, but he was clearly starting to feel the rigors of the day catch up to him.  
  
Ali decided to let things play out, and not bother him about going to bed. She knew he'd protest if she brought it up, or worse, try to fight his way across the courtyard to his own quarters. As his yawning increased, she stealthily swapped his strong black tea with one of Solas's herbal blends. Sure enough, he barely made it through three more letters before nodding off on the desk, head pillowed on one arm and the other dangling at his side.  
  
 _That cannot possibly be comfortable, and if I leave him like that he'll wake up a mess of knots. Maybe I can just move him without him really noticing._  
  
“Cullen,” she whispered, “Cullen are you awake?” When he didn't so much as twitch, Ali made her decision. She slipped around the desk and gently picked up the dangling arm, intending to at least put it in his lap. Instead she had to duck back as he straightened abruptly.  
  
“Inquisitor? Wha's afoot?”  
  
She tried valiantly not to giggle at the sight of the leader of the Inquisition's forces trying to look awake and failing. “Shush, you fell asleep at your desk. You need to go to bed now.” Carefully, she ducked under his arm and helped him stand and stumble over to her bed.  
  
“Izzat my bed? Did we go up the ladder?”  
  
“Shh, yes, we went up the ladder. This is your bed, and the hole in your roof is right up there. You just can't see it because it's dark. You need to go to sleep now.”  
  
“Hokay.” He started to settle down, but surged upwards again. “Wait, I have to smell you. To see if is a trick. Are you a demon?”  
  
Rolling her eyes, Ali leaned down and put her neck by his face. “See, I smell like a person. You're perfectly safe.”  
  
Cullen's smile was faint but present as he nestled into the pillows. “Smell like home.”

Charmed by his words, she tucked another blanket around his shoulders. As she crossed back to the desk, she paused when another thought occurred to her.  
  
 _If he needed to check that I wasn't a demon, it means that sometimes with the desire demons come they look like me. That would mean that when he dreams, he's dreaming that I'm... Oh shit._  
  
She put a hand on her butt self-consciously. Another thought started to form in her head, something about what might happen if she crawled into bed next to him, safe and warm. She didn't know if it was excitement or fright that made her heart speed up at the notion, so she pressed it down, stamped it out, forced it away as far as she could. She forced her eyes back to where he slept, concentrating on the strangeness of the evening, and what she knew to be her true feelings on the matter.

_Cullen is a friend, your best friend, almost a brother. Just a friend, just a friend._

Shaking her head at her own silliness, Ali gathered up the papers from the desk and crept out to finish her work in the safety of Josephine's office, leaving him to sleep alone in her bed.

*****

Cullen awoke the next morning to the sight of pale pink light streaming through the windows. Disoriented, he pressed his face down into an absurdly soft pillow, and pulled the thick blankets higher over his shoulders. As his wakefulness grew, he recognized the sheets he lay on - he'd helped Vivienne unpack the Orlesian boxes, grousing at her demands that he not touch the contents until he'd washed his hands 'most thoroughly'.

 _Oh crap. I'm in the Inquisitor's bed_. He squished  his eyes shut, trying to remember what happened the night before. He remembered sitting at her desk, feeling hollowed out by her story, but after that there was nothing. Steeling himself, he turned over, sending up a prayer that they hadn't made a huge mistake in the wee hours of the morning.

The other side of the bed was untouched, pillows still neatly piled. He exhaled, thanking Andraste and the Maker for their benevolence. If he'd slept with Ali - well, he could barely contemplate the fallout that would ensue.

As if his thoughts had summoned her, the door to her bathing chamber opened and she stepped out, fully dressed but still wringing out her long hair. She was muttering silently to herself as she began to braid it, and her face was furrowed in concentration. He remembered the feel of her cold tresses from the tent after Haven, and he had a brief urge to get out of bed and take the comb from her hands, to once again ease out all the tangles and braid it carefully for her.

Dismissing his foolishness, he gave an exaggerated stretch to alert her that he was up. She turned and gave him a smile that didn't quite look true. "Oh good, you're awake. I wasn't sure how much longer I could let you sleep."

He sat up and motioned her over. "What time is it?"

"Half passed the sixth bell. The storm has passed, but we're going to have a bear of a time digging out this morning. Solas is already out there melting the stairs." She sat next to him and tilted his chin up, probably looking for signs of fatigue in his eyes. "Did you get enough sleep? I can give the soldiers your orders if you want to stay here."

Raking his hands through his hair, he scrubbed his scalp roughly, trying to push though to full alertness. "No, I'm grand. That was more sleep than I've gotten in ages. How about you? I seem to have put you out of your bed."

"I kipped downstairs on Josie's sofa. It'll hold me till tonight." She picked at a fingernail, aiming for casualness. "Did- did you find yourself troubled by dreams?"

Ah, so this was the source of her worry, and that was easily mended on a morning like this. "Nope. Just the ordinary sort of dreaming - I was trying to build a druffalo cart with my old Commander. Strange, but not scary."

She nodded in acknowledgement, but her brow stayed furrowed. Concerned, he reached out to tug on her braid. "What's amiss, then?"

When she finally met his eyes, he saw fear, and trepidation. "A raven came through this morning. The ladies have the siege equipment and are waiting for orders. We're going to Adamant."

"I see." He considered things for a moment, thinking of all weeks of travel ahead only to arrive at a place no one wanted to be, to do a task no one wanted to do. There was no help for it - Ali had to deal with the Warden's mistakes, and he had to watch her back while she did. "We aren't going anywhere 'till we dig out. Fetch yourself downstairs and get some breakfast. I'll go deal with the snow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dream about the druffalo cart is a reference to a take from the great Mitch Hedburg. 
> 
> Next up - Adamant.


	25. Chapter 25

"So we're agreed? Any Wardens who surrender will be turned over to the Chargers for holding?" Leliana set down her quill and flexed her fingers. Cullen reached over and grabbed her hand, digging his thumbs into the base of her palm. She gave a tired but grateful smile, and Ali gave him a thankful nod from across the fire.

They were all tired. It had taken weeks to get across Thedas to Adamant Fortress, even with ships to transport their forces most of the way. There was no time for leisure and precious little time to rest. Josephine had stayed at Skyhold with Sera and Vivienne for protection. Their ambassador had no place on the battlefield, but her absence was sorely felt. She had a gift for organization that would put the greatest generals to shame, and Leliana had been working overtime to try to fill in. Cullen had been drilling his troops mercilessly, determined to teach them every trick he'd ever learned for fighting demons. For her part, Ali had been in constant rotation among their forces - giving speeches, offering support, and generally doing everything she could to assure everyone that they were going into battle with the full blessing of Andraste and the Maker.

Shadows flickered on Stroud's face as he leaned closer to the fire where the last of the plans were being finalized. "So to sum up, the elven apostate, the Seeker and the Qunari giant will join the Herald's strike team, while the rest of your men offer support to the Commander's lieutenants and hold the ground you win."

"And you and I will be first up on the walls to try to come in from the back." Hawke piped up from where he lay, so close to the fire that Cullen was afraid his ridiculous beard was about to start smoking. He and Stroud had crept into camp the night before last, bringing their latest reconnaissance reports from the fortress. It was thanks to them that there was any sort of plan at all - which did nothing to endear the Champion to Cullen at the moment. He'd given Hawke a wide berth for the last two days - he knew they needed to have a conversation, but was in no hurry to have it. Now, Hawke looked directly at him. "Sure you won't join us up there Commander? You've a hell of a way with that sword of yours."

"No." Now it was Ali who spoke, low and certain. "We need him to hold the door in case we have to retreat. If something should go wrong, the men will look to him to lead them out. I won't risk their lives so I can have another shield at my back."

She'd been very quiet on this night, thinking things over long and hard before committing to a course. It reminded Cullen of her first days in the Inquisition, back when he thought her long silences and short answers were the markers of spoiled noble flippancy. He knew better now - knew that she didn't want to take them down the wrong path, that she was always worried that her lack of martial experience would lead to unnecessary pain and death. It was how she would get through the battle, and he'd be there to put her back together again after.

Their conference was drawing to a close, and he knew this might be his only chance to speak to Hawke before the fighting started. He dropped Leliana's hand and picked up the fallen quill and her report. "I'll finish this up and send it round to my lieutenants. The rest of you should get some sleep. Hawke, if you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you in private."

Across the fire, Ali's head shot up and she glared at him warningly. He raised his hands in mock surrender and smiled, trying to indicate that he wasn't going to cause any bodily harm. Still suspicious, she nevertheless allowed Leliana to lead her away towards their shared tent. Stroud wandered off towards the mess tent, leaving him alone with the famed and feared Champion of Kirkwall.

The same Champion who was now reclining by the fire, picking nits out of his beard and tossing them to the flames.

"I do have a razor you know. If you'd like to borrow it." Cullen couldn't keep the amusement out of his voice, and he felt some of his foul feelings evaporate.

Hawke gave him a big smile, bright white teeth flashing from his tanned face. "I appreciate that Commander. You wouldn't believe some of the places we've been sleeping, and Stroud shaves with his greatsword. Varric warned me you might want to have a reckoning about that kiss, yeah?"

Cullen's hand slipped and left a messy inkblot over his signature, surprised by his bluntness. "I wasn't aware Varric knew about that."

Chuckling, Hawke moved to sit on the log beside Cullen. "Varric knows all, including when to keep his mouth shut. Is that was this is about?"

"Actually, no." He folded the orders carefully and tucked them safely into his boot. "Ali explained all about it, and no matter what I think about it, it's none of my business. And what I think about it is none of yours."

"Oh." Hawke considered it for a moment before nodding in approval. "Fair enough. So what did you want to talk about?"

"I uh - I wanted to ask how your sister is doing." He wasn't sure how to come out and ask for a favor, so he figured this was a safe way to work around to it. He hadn't counted on how suspicious the question would make the Champion, who rolled his shoulders like he was making sure his daggers were still strapped to his back.

"She's fine. Why?"

Cullen put his hands out, face up, showing that he was unarmed and uninterested in fighting. "I was thinking about the Wardens, and the False Calling. We left Blackwall at the rear camp to keep him out of things, and I just wanted to make sure Bethany is safe too. It's a stupid question, I know. You probably have her tucked away on Isabela's boat with Fenris playing guard-dog."

Some of the tension left Hawke's shoulders. "Well... Merrill is there too."

"And Anders? Once upon a time, he was a Warden too, right?"

Back came the tension. This was not a subject they'd ever discussed, not since the day when Hawke had refused to stab his friend in the back for blowing up the world. "I don't know where he is exactly. He was friends with an elf in Vigil's Keep. She never went through the Joining, and I think he's with her. She'll keep him safe." His mouth twitched, and he looked uncomfortable. "What's this really about?"

Culled exhaled a long breath and stared into the fire, hoping for a moment of mercy. "I don't know if we're friends or not. But I've fought beside you, more than once, and I know what you're capable of. Tomorrow... if I were going into battle with Bethany, I hope you know that I would stand between her and anything they sent at her. I have no right to ask it, but you're going in there with Ali while I'm..."

"Maker." Hawke looked stricken, and the play of flames on his face added ten years to him as his normally cheerful expression grew grave. "You don't even need to ask that!  She's your _family_ , man. I know that. We all know that. She's important, and not just because she's the Inquisitor."

Cullen looked at him, really looked past the stupid beard, and shaggy hair; past the layers of grime and the forced casualness, and the infuriating need to take up space for fun. Underneath all of that, he saw a man who had been stripped of everything he had in life, who had crawled and fought his way back up, dragging others up with him in his wake, fueled by a deep need to just make everything okay again. In that moment, he understood him in a way he never had and forgave him everything, the mess of Kirkwall, harboring apostates, even kissing Ali.

They clasped each others forearms in a warrior's grip. Very seriously, Hawke met his eyes and said, "Cullen. If I come back tomorrow without her, you should cut out my heart."

He nodded once before replying, "You'll both come back."

*****

In stories, the day of the battle always comes bright and clear. _Too bad this isn't a story,_ Cullen thought grumpily as he listened to the battering-ram hit home while rain splattered on his face. As the ram splintered the gates, he turned in a circle, doing a final check that everyone was in their proper place. He signaled for one group to move further back, but everyone else was where they should be. Satisfied, he went to send the strike team into the fortress.

The four of them were waiting impatiently by the gates, out of the range of arrows shot from the walls. He held a shield over his head, but he wasn't terribly worried. Thus far, they'd seen remarkably little resistance. He explained to the small group about the ladders, and that Hawke and Stroud had made their own way in, climbing the walls precariously under cover of night.

Cassandra interrupted him. "Commander, we are prepared for this. It is in the Maker's hands now." She leaned in to brush her lips against his cheek. "We will be fine. Stop fussing."

Cullen blushed, but didn't object, just kissed her back quickly, then turned to shake Solas's hand and slap Bull on the back. "Fight well. We'll open a cask when this is over."

The three of them moved aside to allow him a moment alone with Ali. He'd barely seen her this morning, and she looked... ready. Dagna had made her new armor, which glistened with protective enchantments, her staff blade was honed sharp, and her hair was tightly braided back, ready for the helm she carried under one arm.

She was staring very intently up at the massive fortress, but there was no fear in her eyes. She turned to look at him, and her voice was almost conversational, like they'd bumped into each other in the garden. "I was just thinking that this might have been a beautiful building, once. Would you keep an eye on Cole please? I think he might have some problems today."

The last time he'd seen Cole, the spirit was busy tying knots into Ali's balls of yarn, but it seemed better not to mention that. "Of course. Are you ready?"

Squaring her shoulders, she stood very tall and pointed to her forehead. "I could use a little luck."

He swallowed a chuckle and reached for her face. Just as his kiss landed on her forehead, the battering ram finished its work and the doors burst open. He pulled back quickly, "Oppose you, wrath of heaven and so on. Fight well, my lady!"

As she darted away, she yelled back, "Still not your lady!"

*****

The battle was, as all battles are, much better and much worse than imagined. Injuries were high, but fatalities were lower than he'd expected. Once they'd found a foothold for the ladders, most of the soldiers on the ground had surged upwards, and they controlled the majority of the battlements. At some point, something must have scared the Wardens and they saw a dramatic uptick in the number of surrenders.

Cullen was having trouble keeping track of the rumors. His runners kept coming back with more reports of rifts opening and demons spawning, and his maps were getting ruined as he shifted markers as quickly as he could. Still, he was optimistic about the way things were going - they might make it out of here in one piece.

When word came about the appearance of an archdemon, he nearly laughed. Of course a fucking dragon would show up in the middle of a pitched battle! How else would the Maker show his love? All of his squads were actively engaged, except for his own detail standing nervously outside his tent. Baring his teeth, he snatched up his sword and shield, leaving Leliana to deal with the damned maps.

He led his squad through the gates and up to the battlements, skirting the broken stone and broken bodies that littered the area. Just as they passed back inside the keep, he saw the dragon make a pass under a section of bridge. They pushed through the dank interior as fast as possible, but the second they emerged back into the dim sunlight, he knew something was terribly wrong.

The whole section had broken away, and a Fade Rift was just closing. Behind them, another Rift loomed large, discharging demons at an alarming rate. Cullen grabbed a soldier running towards them and demanded a situational update.

"The Herald, ser, the dragon came for her and it knocked away the bridge and they... they..." The boy trailed off, looking around frantically. "They fell into the rift."

Cullen felt the blood drain out of his face, and he nearly dropped his sword. "The Inquisitor fell back into the Fade?" He must have misheard, that couldn't be right, but why then was he lightheaded, and why was the world so still around him.

He knew there were decisions he should be making right now, but all he could think of was the way her broken and battered body had dropped out of the Fade at his feet all those long months ago. He couldn't stop remembering the wet pop as she landed on her broken arm, and sick glow of the Anchor sapping out her strength as he watched.

Beside him, one of his men shook his shoulder. "Commander, what are your orders? Commander?"

_If I fall, promise me you'll keep fighting.  If something should go wrong, the men will look to him to lead them out._

With a force of will he didn't think he possessed, Cullen pulled himself together. "We must proceed without the Inquisitor for now. We have to keep the demons contained at the breach until the wounded have been retrieved. For the Inquisition!" He raised his sword briefly, then ran towards the rift, trusting his squad to follow.

It was like those first days at Haven. No matter how many demons they killed, more followed. He felt like a machine, a creature designed for battle. After the first few seconds, all other thoughts disappeared and he fucking loved it. There was nothing outside of block, thrust, parry repeat. He took a blow from a Pride Demon that made his head ring and felt blood dripping down his face. Shaking it off, he bared his teeth again and tossed his shield aside, shifting purely to offensive maneuvers, nearly cutting the creature in half. When Pride fell, Despair took its place, making him roll and dodge the shards of ice that came shooting through his throat.

Luckily, that was the moment that the Rift pulsed, and Alinora stepped out, as graceful as a bride on her wedding day. A shimmering blade of light emerged from her hand, and she neatly sliced off the demon's arm, then its head.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe from relief that she - they - were back. The entire party was covered in splatters of blood and what looked to be bile. Cullen did a quick headcount and came up with one extra - Hawke was leaning heavily on Bull's arm, face hidden behind his disheveled hair.

Cullen whistled for his squad and moved them in to cover her blind side. Ali dispatched two shades with quick bolts of lightning, then raised her staff over her head commandingly. "Wardens! Lay down your swords! Warden Stroud has fallen - he is a hero, who died defending Thedas from the treachery that has befallen your ranks!" As Ali detailed the next few steps to the growing crowd, he worked his way around to stand near her. When she led them all off the battlements he took a few quick steps to catch up and fell in next to her. She looked up at him, vaguely surprised to see him there.

"Commander, do you have any water?" She was still using her Inquisitor-voice, and underneath it was just... nothing. No fear, no anger, no relief. He realized that she was in shock from whatever had happened, holding herself together with iron bands of will and duty.

Wordlessly, he unhooked his belt flask and handed it over. She took a long drink, then splashed some on her face, using her sleeve to try to scrub off the worst of the grime. Since her sleeve was equally filthy, it didn't work very well.

"Here lady, let me." He took the flask back and soaked down his handkerchief. When he reached towards her face she recoiled and plucked the cloth from his hand.

Stunned, Cullen stepped back and gave her space to march by him. A quiet voice spoke from behind him - Solas, the only party member who didn't look like they'd been forced to dig their own grave.

"That wasn't personal. We all were forced to... face things. Her more than anyone. She can't look at it yet, duty must come first."

"Duty, right." He gave a joyless laugh at the thought of how much _duty_ was laying at the Inquisitors feet. A conquered fortress, a beaten enemy and scores of injured soldiers and allies that needed tending. Well, that's what he was there for, to help carry her burdens before she collapsed under their weight. Sighing, he set off, intent on finding his lieutenants and getting things moving.


	26. Chapter 26

The hours after the battle were a tedious slog, filled with the mundane sort of errands that accompanied organizing any large mass of people. Cullen was intensely grateful that he had learned to delegate, and that his lieutenants were good enough to be delegated to. Slowly, they imposed order back on the soldiers, getting everything ready for the next day's journey back to Griffon Wing Keep for resupplying before the journey home.

Alinora had held it together during her triumphant march back to camp, looking for all the world like a jubilant leader lifted high over Bull's horns while Cassandra and Hawke led the cheers of victory. She was so convincing, in fact, that Cullen started to think his earlier concerns were misplaced.

They hadn't been. When Varric and Leliana came running up, Ali had looked right past them, her gaze sliding off the pair like they were strangers. Her grin was wide, but so were her eyes, and she didn't seem to be blinking as often as she should. A healer was summoned to take care of their hurts, so Cullen left them in her care and went to check on the initial list of casualties. When he came back, all five Fade-touched warriors were in clean clothes, fully healed and fast asleep. He continued to check in on them as he went about his business, and was reassured to see that Dorian and Varric had settled in to keep vigil over their sleeping forms.

Solas was the first to wake. Cullen was there when it happened, but knew better than to pester him with questions. Varric had no such qualms, immediately asking, "What in the Maker's holy balls were you doing in the Fade?" Solas wouldn't talk about what had transpired, just asked for Cole to accompany him on a walk and disappeared out of the tent.

The next time he came by, Alinora was gone and the others had woken. Dorian was gently spooning soup into Bull's mouth, making ridiculous jokes about big Qunari babies. Cassandra sat in front of Leilana, getting a shoulder rub, and Hawke was lying with his head in Varric's lap.

Cullen wasn't quite sure where to look, and he knew he was imposing. One by one, they all turned to face him and he felt his cheeks start to burn. "Ali?" He asked, keeping his voice low.

It was Dorian who answered him. "She went to find Blackwall. Woke up about ten minutes ago and bolted out of here looking for him."

Oh, how that hurt, even know Cullen knew it shouldn't. He'd assumed that she would come find him first, want him to be the one to rub her back and tell her everything would be okay. Still, this wasn't about him, and if Blackwall was the one who could comfort her, if that was the best thing for her, he wouldn't interfere. "Well, I'll leave them to it then."

"No." Hawke's voice was broken and rough. "She wants to tell him about Stroud. To apologize. One of us had to stay behind, and... she had to choose who. I said I would! _I would have stayed_!" His face crumpled and he rolled over, hiding his face in Varric's chest hair, crying tears of guilt and shame.

"There were spiders." Cassandra didn't look up, but she at least, sounded like her usual self. "Huge spiders, and a monster of fear. It knew everything..."

"...emptied us out. Demon made it all real." Bull finished the sentence, pushing away the next bite of soup. "But she led us through it."

Cullen was reeling. He always thought he'd been through hell with demons, but to have every fear you've ever had dredged up and displayed to others, to have to literally fight against the fear itself... His mind boggled at how any of them were even coherent.

"Go find her Curly. We've got this." Varric paused from soothing Hawke to wave Cullen away. "Go on, scram. You're the only one who can help her."

He did as bid, exchanging a final, grateful glance with the caretakers in the tent. He knew Blackwall was camped near the north end of the officer's clearing, so he headed that way, hoping he remembered the layout correctly.

*****

He could hear her before he saw her. She wasn't yelling, not exactly, but she was still using her Command voice and every word carried perfectly. What exactly she meant wasn't as clear.

Ali was standing in front of Blackwall demanding that he help her do... something about Stroud? She was poking him in the chest with an outstretched finger, and he was just standing there and taking it, making no move to get out of her way.

Cullen called her name as he jogged up, but she didn't seem to notice that he'd arrived. Blackwall sent him a pleading look over her shoulder, so he stepped up and used his own Command voice, "Inquisitor, you are needed back at camp."

That also had no effect. She looked at him once, then turned her back and beginning her chatter once again. This time, Cullen grabbed her by the elbow, bodily turning her away from the grizzled Warden. “Ali, I have some crucial information for you about _Starkhaven_.”  
  
Ali twisted in his grip and met his eyes with a panicky glance. “No Cullen, I have to finish - I have to find out -” She turned back to Blackwall and tried to reach for him again. “We have to find out what Stroud's plans are - but maybe Solas can help me get back there. SOLAS?!” She tried to break free of Cullen's grip, calling out for the Elven Mage frantically.  
  
Cullen and Blackwell exchanged a knowing glance. This wasn't normal behavior from their Inquisitor, but they both were familiar with it from battles past. Once the fighting ends and the adrenaline recedes, all that's left is whatever happened during the battle itself. If it was bad enough, sometimes you have to do whatever you can to avoid looking straight at it. Some people start fights, some drink, some fuck, and some just find new problems to solve.  
  
Blackwall reached out and neatly plucked the Inquisitor's staff from her hand while Cullen leaned down to get a shoulder under her belly and heaved her off the ground. Blackwall gestured towards the woods with the staff. “Leliana has scouts out but there aren't very many that way. Let her get it out of her system where no one can hear her.” Cullen nodded and started walking, keeping an iron grip on Ali as she tried to wiggle herself free.  
  
“Put me down you filthy Templar! Andraste's bloody cunt! I will fucking break you in half if you don't put me down!” Cullen had never been more thankful that his Templar abilities had only waned with the loss of lyrium, and not disappeared entirely. She was pounding on his back and head with closed fists, but the real concern was her magic. Every time he felt the stirrings of a spell, he would use a tiny Purge to eliminate it. Once they were out of range of the other mages, he switched to using a Silence - which had the added affect of keeping the whole camp from hearing her really exceptionally creative cursing.  
  
They only got about three minutes into the woods before she managed to break free. He'd gotten used to her wiggling and hitting, but was completely unprepared for when she started with the _biting_. He yelped, and she went crashing to the ground, landing heavily on her ass. His first thought was that she might be hurt, but that was quickly lost when she leaned back and aimed a kick directly at his groin, which he barely managed to avoid.  
  
“Alinora, sweetheart...” He tried to pitch his voice low and reassuring but she was having none of it. With a guttural yell she got to her feet and charged at him. He let her slam into him, bracing his feet for the impact but making no effort to grab her.  
  
The Silence kept her from using magic, but did nothing about her fists. She slammed at him, over and over, aiming for his chest, his nose, his eyes. She had blood on her mouth from biting her lip and her eyes were dilated and wild, white visible all around the green. He caught her wild hits on open palms and kept talking to her in the same low voice. She was screaming now, a long monologue about the unfairness of it, about being forced to choose between Hawke and Stroud, about all the dark crawly things the Nightmare had summoned from her mind, about the great burden of responsibility her friends had placed on her and about how it would never ever end.  
  
She finally landed a hit, knuckles cracking against his cheekbone with an impact that made his head ring. He grabbed her wrist then, and tried to keep her still, pulling her close. Hands subdued, she started to kick, so he caught her with a thigh behind a wildly flailing knee in a bizarre parody of a dance.  
  
Still she fought him, still she screamed about the Fade, and still he tried to calm her with low words of comfort. Her struggles were changing, and she dug her nails into the backs of his hands, trying to make him release his grip.  
  
 _Maker, she's like a wild animal_.  
  
Afraid of overbalancing, Cullen turned them and pushed her back against a tree, which she promptly slammed her head against. She was almost hyperventilating now, breath ragged as her shouts turned to hoarse cries. She darted over to the side where he had a leg pinned, but instead of making a break for it, she _slid_ up his thigh.  
  
 _What is she... oh_. The other part of battle fever. He could feel the heat coming from between her thighs, and there was no way to mistake what her movements were trying to accomplish. Cullen stood very still for a moment, trying to parse exactly what you're supposed to do when your best friend has a demon induced breakdown and starts trying to rub one off using  your leg. _This is not something my training ever prepared me for, but Maker knows I've had the urge to rut after a battle. Void take it, I think this falls under the category of taking care of her._  
  
He wrapped her left arm around his neck and turned her slightly, easing her away from his leg. He shoved his now free hand down her trousers, careful to keep her smalls in place.  
  
 _Andraste, I hope you approve of your Herald being treated this way and please help me remember how all the bits down here work. Doing this over clothes in the woods at night is not how I wanted to restart my sexual career - although this isn't really sex at all. This is just... an odder side of friendship._  
  
In fact, Cullen was trying very hard not to be aroused as he worked his hand between her legs. The cloth there was soaked through, and she was sending off heat like a fire rune. She was still thrashing in his arms, but her free hand was in his hair, holding on. Her cries weren't panicked now, more pleading than anything else. “Oh please, I need, please help me, I want to, please Cullen please.”  
  
He could feel her slit, and ran his fingers up the length of it before finding the tiny nub at the  front. He pushed a fingertip against it and she nearly shrieked, arching her back and tightening the grip on his hair. Encouraged by her reaction, he did it again, moving his finger quickly from side to side.  
  
 _Dammit man, you were good at this once upon a time. What else do I do down there?_

Glancing down, he saw her nipples were rock hard, making tiny points in her thin shirt. _Maker I can't touch her tits. I want to touch her tits. No, don't think about what you want, just get this done for her. Fuck, I never just tried to use my fingers for this._

He recalled a particularly crude hand gesture of Sera's and slid his fingers back along her pulsing cunt. He nudged her smallclothes to the side and slid a finger inside of her. Encouraged by the high keening moan she let out, he quickly added another finger. This put the heel of his hand conveniently over the tiny bundle of nerves he'd just abandoned, so he added a bit of pressure there.  
  
She wasn't even saying words now, just a mix of moans of pleasure and despair right in his ear as she ground herself his hand. Cullen felt himself begin to harden. Knowing that an erection would only complicate things, he tried to think of ice-cold baths and the sound of Meredith's voice echoing around the Gallows. He realized belatedly that he was still gripping Ali's other hand, and most of her weight was being supported on the hand he had between her legs. He released his grip on her wrist and tucked the now-free arm under her hips and lifted her gently. That seemed to change the angle his fingers were entering her at, and she sucked in her breath and gasped.  
  
Experimentally, Cullen bent his two fingers forward, stroking the slightly raised section of her tight channel while moving his thumb around to her clit and flicking it gently. She reacted like she'd been hit with a bolt of lightning, muscles tensing, biting her lip. Feeling confidant now, he found a rhythm, alternating between hard and soft strokes, timing it so that sensations would build up steadily, trying to gauge how close she was to her finish.  
  
At last she reached her peak, a jagged cry coming from her throat as she tightened around his fingers, and dug her fingers into his scalp. When she started to come down again, her eyes were still wild, so he twitched his fingers again, pushing her back in the orgasm for a second go around. Afterwards, she slumped forwards against his chest, still crying but coming down from all of it. Carefully, he extracted his hand from her britches and sank to his knees. He set her down gently then sat beside her, pulling her into his shoulder and leaning them both back against the ever-supportive tree.  
  
She took a few deep shuddering breaths, and sniffled for awhile longer as he rubbed slow circles on her back, cheek resting against the top of her head.  After a few minutes, he could feel her start to settle, like she was adjusting back to her body, and he kissed the top of her head. “Hey lady,” he said softly. “Feet back on the ground?”  
  
He could feel her nod against his shoulder. “I think so. Sorry for.. everything that's ever happened, I guess?” Embarrassed, she buried her face in her hands and tried to curl up into a ball.  
  
There was no way Cullen was going to let her hide from him, not in this moment. “Ali, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You held it together when you needed to, and when it was safe, you let it out. That's fine. You're fine. I've got your back.” He moved around in front of her, trying to get her to look at him.

She almost smiled, but it was a twisted miserable thing. “You had more than that. What am I supposed to do now? What the fuck does this even mean? Sex ruins everything!"

“Honey, I don't think this has to be anything we don't want it to be.” He cupped her cheek gently, happy that for once he knew what to say. “And that doesn't have to count as sex. We agreed to take care of each other and I'm pretty sure that's what I just did. This can just be one of those things that we never ever talk about again. Can you trust me on that?”  
  
She blinked at him and smiled for real. “I trust you. We're okay.” He could see another thought occurred to her, and a series of emotions flickered across her face too quickly for him to catch. She gestured vaguely towards his lower body, “Are you okay, Cullen? Do you need me to... um... return the favor or whatever?”  
  
He raised his eyebrows prissily at her. “Right now, all I need is to wash this hand. It is sticky.”  
  
She made a face, but turned slightly and dug in her pocket before offering him a handkerchief. He took it and was surprised to discover that it had his initials embroidered in the corner. It took a moment for him to remember the long ago day in Haven when he'd looked at her sprained elbow, and he was touched that she'd kept the tiny piece of cloth.  
  
He wiped his hand thoroughly, then looked around wondering what to do with scrap of cloth. Gingerly, Ali took it from him. "I'll just wash that, shall I?" She busied herself tucking it away. While her face was averted, she asked quietly, "So what happens now?"

Cullen sighed and climbed to his feet, pulling her up beside him and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Now you need to eat something. We're heading to Griffon Wing tomorrow, and I'll debrief you on the ride in." He hesitated, but couldn't avoid the subject forever. "Do you think you can talk about the Fade tomorrow? We need the information you gathered."

She flinched, pressing her head further into his shoulder, but nodded. "As long as you feed me soon, I'll be fine."

He tightened his grip around her. "Of course you are. You're always fine."

_This is fine. We're fine. We have to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for everyone who wanted smut, this is what you meant, right?
> 
> Oh these poor kiddos. So full of self-delusion. They have a long road to go still...


	27. Chapter 27

That night, Ali dreamt of a shadowy corridor in her Father's house with a door outlined in starlight. As she approached, it creaked open and she stepped through into her childhood bedroom, the one she had once shared with her sisters. The three little beds were still there in a line, full of children, fast asleep. She wanted to pause by them, tuck in covers and kiss their downy heads but her feet compelled her forwards, towards the big window that looked out over her family's grounds, past the gazebo and over the rock wall, all the way out to the sea.

There was a time when this window seat had been her whole world. Before duty and obligation, before the demands of blood and burden, this seat had been a throne, a pirate ship, a cliff overlooking all her childhood dreams and adventures. She climbed onto it and knelt, the velvet cool under her knees. Looking down, she realized she was naked, but that was no matter. She was often naked in dreams.

The room was warm with sleep, and she wanted to let the air in, to hear the sounds of the sea and smell the salt. She reached for the window latch, but stopped when she saw the thing moving in waves. It was a spirit, maybe, or a demon, something out there, maybe dangerous, maybe watching this house and these sleeping babies.

"You are safe here."

The voice came from behind her, and she whirled to see three old women, each standing at the foot of a bed. Her mind leapt to old tales of crones come to steal the breath of sleeping babes and she whipped out a hand, staff forming there without conscious thought. A sudden weight on her shoulders told her that her armor had come as well, the old battered set destroyed in the Battle of Haven.

The first old woman stepped forward, standing to her left. "Such a fierce child. So willing to protect the future." She was a stranger, dressed in a gown made of armor, white hair like wings. She looked quizzical, "Do I like you? I'm not sure."

The second old woman stepped forward, standing to her right, a solid version of Divine Justinia, or the spirit wearing her face. "You have done well child, as well as I hoped you would."

The third woman stepped forward, standing in the middle. "My little Evelyn. Child of my child." With a shock, Ali recognized her mother's mother, who she barely remembered.  She had been plump, and frail, and stern, but always handed out candy when no one was looking. She died when Ali was still in clouts, but as her namesake, Evelyn had left her a shiny golden ring.

The same ring that had gone through the Fade with her once, and the same ring that now winked from her finger, reflecting back the glow of the Anchor, nevermind that it was tucked away safe at Skyhold. "Gran?" Ali looked up, incredulous and suspicious. She inhaled deeply, but there was no demonic influence present, just a vague hint of mothballs and camphor. "What do you want from me?"

The first woman laughed, a harsh and discordant sound in the still of the room. "Oh, I do like you. So blunt!" She chucked Ali under the chin. "I want nothing from you girl, not yet. This is a favor to a friend, and the debt is his. I just happen to like grandchildren." That seemed to be the end of her interest, and she busied herself with two discarded dolls, making them kiss passionately.

The second woman laid a hand on Ali's head as a Chantry Mother would. "I want nothing from you, save to say that the Nightmare is dead, and I am _thankful_." She tottered off towards the beds, whispering prayers over the still-sleeping forms of the children.

The third woman, her grandmother, stepped forward and stared at her face. She licked her thumb and swiped at Ali's cheek - her kohl must have come with the armor. "Such a pretty face, such a shame to hide it."

The unexpected fussiness made Ali grin with true mirth. "I can't cry if I wear it."

Evelyn stopped cleaning her face and started in on her armor, straightening the shoulders and smoothing down the collar. "And where did you get the idea that you can't cry? You need to be brave, lovey, not fearless. It's why you were the best choice."

Ali crushed her eyes closed, shutting out the dream. "I wasn't chosen. It was a mistake."

But then there was a fourth woman, or at least the barest impressions of one, just a hint of burning lavender, a soft sigh, a brush of fingers down her spine and a musical voice saying, "Have faith, little magelet."

The presence disappeared as quickly as it came. Looking around wildly, she saw that they were no longer in her room, and the other two women were gone as well. Gran's eyes danced as she pulled Ali to her feet. "I have a gift for you."

They were in the Main Hall of the house, and everything looked the same as the last time she'd been here - age thirteen, politely greeting the Templars come to take her away. There were the same iron chandeliers, the same colorful tapestries, the same ancient trestle table loaded with food. Ali hardly noticed any of this, for up and down the table was her _family_.

They were eating Seheron style, she noticed, using flat pieces of bread to scoop up savory bits of meat and sauce. That was typical of the Trevelyan family- Mother liked to switch eating styles often so her children would be well-received  in any company. Yes, there was her mother at the end of the table, checking to see if everyone was eating enough. Next to her was Papa, taking the opportunity to sneak some more bread onto Mama's plate.

Ali walked up the length of the table and back down again, studying faces familiar and new. There was Robis, going gray in the temples and balding on top, still laughing with his whole body. Here was Kassia, the oldest and most beautiful sister, more radiant than ever as the man beside her patted her very pregnant belly. Bragi, her favorite brother, wasn’t at the table, but she saw Micah, tall and broad, sharing a joke with Nessa, who had of course brought a book to the table. The two jokers at the bottom of the table could only be the twins, Albert and Dorsey, grown into strapping young men. At the very end was the youngest diner, a lad of no more than sixteen, still bearing the spots of adolescence. As she walked towards him he looked up from his plate and she saw her own eyes staring back from his face, dark green surrounding gold.

Staggered, she turned to Gran. "Who is that? I don't know him."

Gran held her hand and smiled kindly at the boy. "This is Tristen, your youngest brother. He liked to hear about his big sister in the Circle, and always thought he would sneak away to find you. Now he worries - worries that he will never meet you, worries that you won't like him if you do. He is fifteen years old, and badly wants to see a dragon, and he lights a candle every night for the big sister who he’s never met."

"Oh." Ali reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, but her hand stopped an inch from him, as if he was encased in glass. Realization dawned and she snatched her hand away. "Is this real? Am I in Ostwick?"

Gran's smile crinkled the edges of her eyes as she laughed. "Oh very good. I didn't think you'd figure it out on your own. Just in time, too. You need to wake up now.”

“What?” Ali protested. “I don’t want to leave yet. Where’s Bragi? Who were the children upstairs?”

“Hush!” Gran waved a hand and the two of them were back in a silent hallway. “You must remember that you are a woman of blood. You take it and spill it, yes, but you also share it with others, give your own to save them.” Her voice was rising now, and Ali stared at her, horrified at her guidance.

Gran reconsidered her words, and in a quite different tone said, “Bother, that does make it sound like I’m encouraging you to practice blood magic, doesn’t it. Nevermind all that then, I was never good with portents. Just be brave, child, and do not be afraid of what you want.”

With a last smile, Gran produced a bit of candy from her dress and handed it to Ali. “Pop that in your mouth then dearie, and you’ll wake right up in time for breakfast.”

*****

Ali awoke with the taste of honey melting on her tongue and a warm, peaceful feeling throughout her limbs. She stretched like a cat as she sat up and swung her legs off the cot, not suprised to see the gold ring still wrapped around her third finger.

The tent was empty - Cassandra and Leliana typically rose before dawn. Based on the light streaming under the canvas, dawn had passed about an hour ago. She really did need to hurry if she didn’t want to miss breakfast.

But she couldn’t bring herself to rush. She sipped water, reflecting on the dream she’d just had. She was fairly sure that they weren’t demons, and she was willing to believe that she really had been visited by the spirits of her Grandmother and Grand Justina. As for why…

Ali tried not to think about her family too often. There was so _much_ of them, too many people to keep track of and too many memories that tempted her with 'what-might-have-beens'. She didn't even write home, fearing danger would be brought upon them if her enemies thought they were a stress point for her. Josephine gathered what news she could, but scraps of information were nothing compared to seeing them gathered around a table, healthy and happy.

It was a gift, a reassurance that her fears in the Fade were unfounded. The Nightmare was dead and her family was safe. She didn't know who the first woman was, but put her aside for now to think about the other one, that vague impression of womanhood who'd stroked her back and commanded her to have faith.

Ali hadn't ever been comfortable with her role as Herald of Andraste, worrying that claiming the title was close to blasphemy. Still, she'd always had faith and her problems with religion were with the Chantry, not the Maker or his Bride. If it was Andraste who'd appeared last night- well, there was nothing in her faith to make that impossible. Just to be on the safe side, she'd light a candle straightaway. She rooted through her things, but couldn't find one. No matter, after breakfast she'd borrow one from Cullen.

_Malerath on toast! Cullen!_

The strangeness of the dream had chased last night right out of her head. After... the woods, he'd gotten her some food, made her drink about a gallon of water and helped her stagger to her cot. The last thing she remembered was the scratch of his quill at the desk as he wrote out orders. She'd been too wrung out of emotion to worry about what would happen today, but now, in the warm morning sunlight, full awareness returned. She pressed a hand to her mouth and sank back down on the cot.

He'd had his fingers inside of her! And she wanted it! There was no doubt that he'd behaved appropriately but this was just so weird! What if he thought she was a slattern? What if didn't want to be friends anymore? What if he thought she was fat? What if Gran knew about what happened?

The final thought pushed her over the edge into hysterical giggles and she fell backwards, laughing as she watched dust motes drift in the sun. Gran had birthed seven children and buried three husbands. She wouldn't be shocked by a bit of rummaging in the woods.

And that's all it was. Just a bit of rummaging between friends. Together, she and Cullen had pulled each other out of despair, lyrium addiction and the end of the world. They'd discussed their pasts and neither of them were anything close to blushing virgins. This wouldn't be weird - she wouldn't let it be.

Resolved, Ali left for the mess camp where everyone had already gathered. They'd left a space for her between Cullen and an unfamiliar black haired man. She took a deep breath, rubbed her ring for luck and walked up behind them. Cullen turned as she approached and gave her half a smile. He looked tentative, and she remembered that just because she was okay with what happened didn't mean that he was. She was about to say something vague but reassuring when she caught sight of the man next to him.

"Hawke? Is that what you looked like under that hair?"

He chuckled and scratched at his chin. The overgrown beard was completely gone, and his hair had been cropped close to his scalp. It didn't look bad, exactly, but it was strange to see him looking almost... civilized. "Your Commander loaned me a razor. l haven't been clean shaven since Lothering."

She was just reaching out a hand to rub his hair when Cullen spoke up. "Don't complain. You had lice."

Yanking her hand back like it had been burnt, Ali yelped. "Nuts to that! I'm not sitting next to someone with lice. Budge over Cullen, you can sit by the louse-pit."

Everyone around the fire seemed to exhale, relieved that their Inquisitor had woken in good spirits, seemingly past whatever had happened in the battle. Ali settled herself between Cullen and Leliana, looking around to see if there was any food left, but Cullen, of course, had planned for that. He handed her a covered plate of breakfast pastries and a tin cup brimming with Antivan coffee. She took a small sip, delighted to find that he'd loaded it with sugar.

Low enough that the others couldn't easily hear, he asked if she needed anything else. She could see the strain on his face - he definitely wasn't as at peace with what had happened, was worried things had changed. She wanted to reassure him, but that wasn't possible in such mixed company. All she could do was squeeze his hand and thank him for the coffee.

She sat contentedly, working her way through breakfast and listening in on the conversations ebbing and flowing around her. Most of the reports were good - the wounded were mostly stabilized, the Wardens were slowly being processed, and the fortress had been cleared of hostiles. They weren't going to be able to leave today - based on the number of injured they would stay camped for at least three more days.

The thought of hanging around camp for almost a week gave Ali an itchy feeling. She felt good - better than she had in ages. It was a product of reassurance, victory, a good night of sleep and a few boneshaking orgasms, and she didn't think this series of events was going to come along again soon. This was not a feeling she wanted to waste sitting around camp. Looking around the circle, she saw her companions from the Fade also looked like they wanted to get on the road - every one of them looked as content as she felt.

Suspicious, she leaned across Cullen and caught Hawke's eye. "Garrett, did you have any dreams last night?"

Surprised at the question though he was, he didn't hesitate to answer. "I did, yes. I saw Carver, my little brother." His hand tightened around his coffee cup, so tightly that the tin started to bend. "He... forgave me."

Ali bit her lip, trying to look supportive. "I saw my Gran." She looked across to Cassandra, who was watching them with interest and a faint smile. She chimed in with, "I spoke with my Mother." Next to her, Bull reached for the Seeker's hand. "So did I."

Solas didn't say anything, but then, he didn't have to. There was only one person who could have manipulated the Fade enough to find them that kind of peace, and he wouldn't ever ask for thanks. Still, Ali passed him her last pastry with a wink of gratitude. Surprised, Solas gave a small bow in return.

Cullen opened his mouth to ask a question, but Ali spoke first to cut him off. She'd tell him all about the dream in good time, but she didn't want the others to feel like they had to share theirs. "So we're going to be here for the next few days, huh? I think I'll ride ahead to the Approach. There are some matters there I'd like to check in on, and I'll make better time if I don't have to wait on the army. Anyone want to come with me?"

A few hands shot up, and Ali picked Varric, Bull and Dorian to come along. Cullen didn't look happy about her decision to leave, but he knew better than to argue in front of everybody. Satisfied with her decisions, Ali brought up the subject that everyone had been avoiding throughout breakfast. "Shall we do the debrief now? We should get a full report back to Josie as soon as possible."

Leliana started, giving a brief overview of the state of the camp. Cullen chimed in with an account of the battle, detailing what forces were occupied where. This took some time, and Ali got up twice for more coffee. Finally, it was time to discuss their journey into the Rift.

"The Fade looked like it always does." Ali stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back in her seat and getting comfortable. "It was strange at first, everyone was facing a different way and some of us were standing on the walls..."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow - they have a talk. The Talk. Well, almost.


	28. Chapter 28

By the time she'd finished telling the story of their adventure to the Fade, some of Ali's vigor had waned. It had gotten emotional in several parts, and Hawke had flat out refused to listen to her explain the final choice between him and Stroud. Cullen volunteered to take notes so Leliana could sit with Cassandra, which left Ali unable to judge how he was taking the story. His jaw was clenched through most of the retelling, but she wasn't sure if it was from stress about the previous night, or just concentration at distilling the important points down to a raven sized message.

"...and then we came in through the rift and landed on the battlements. A little loving from my Anchor" she said, raising her left hand as emphasis, "and the battle was over. That's it really."

Silence descended on the circle of friends as they all digested the story. Finally, Varric piped up. "So what happened later that night?"

Beside her, Cullen's hand jerked and he narrowly avoided upsetting his inkwell. Luckily, it went unnoticed and Ali was pretty sure her face hadn't given anything away either. Without any added inflection, she answered back. "Nothing. We came back here, got patched up."

Varric rolled his eyes and leaned forwards, insistent. "No, after that? Your dreams, Junebug, what was up with those dreams?"

"Oh!" Ali couldn't believe she'd forgotten to tell them about those. She'd assumed he meant... but no, if Varric knew about the woods, she would have been woken by a dogpile of friends and their told-you-sos. She glanced at Cole and shot him a warning glance while resolving to have  a talk with him about his pesky habit of repeating privileged personal information to the world at large. "Right, the dream. I saw my Gran, and Divine Justinia, and some other old lady who I think came along for moral support. They said the Nightmare was dead."

"Did they say anything else? About Stroud maybe?"

She shook her head, regretful that she hadn't thought to ask about him. It also seemed best not to mention that fourth woman, or the glimpse of her family - those were private things, and she didn't want to spend the next few weeks speculating on their meaning. "I'm sorry, but that's all they told me. Oh, and Gran said that I should be brave."

Dorian snorted. "As if you were ever anything but. You're the bravest woman here - except of course for Cassandra. What did you dream Seeker?"

With a set-up like that, Cassandra couldn't not answer and she clearly knew it. "I saw my mother. She said that she never worried about me, and that I had grown beautiful." She stared around the circle with a fierce look, daring anyone to say something snide about it.

Bull spoke before anyone could. "I'm wounded - my Mum didn't say anything about my beauty." He gave a ferocious grin, stretching his craggy face out like a gargoyle. "She did tell me that Tal-Vashoth or no, I made the right decision to save the Chargers. She said she was glad that I made myself a family. Hawke said he saw his brother, right? So what about you Baldy? Who did you see?"

For a moment, it looked like Solas wasn't going to answer, but a small look of satisfaction bloomed on the elf's face. "An old friend. We haven't spoken in years, but it was a balm to see her again, whatever her faults."

The silence descended again, and everyone looked to Ali expectantly. With a start, she realized they were waiting for further orders. It was easy to forget sometimes that she was in charge of this whole shindig. "All right boys and girls, I'm sure you all have things to attend to. For those of you going with me, we'll leave right before supper. I'll address the troops, and we can eat on the road. Once we're past the trees, we can make good time. We'll be at the Keep before noon if we ride hard. Leliana and Cullen, stay back a minute. The rest of you are dismissed!"

As everyone stood up and started to mosey away, Ali called out in a singsong voice, "Oh Cassandra?"

Cassandra looked back with a stony expression. "No. I will not pack your tent for you. I have training to attend to."

Ali stuck her tongue out at the Seeker's retreating form. She hadn't really expected it to work, but it was worth a try. She really did hate packing an awful lot, and sometimes Cassandra could be convinced to do it for her.

Leliana was chuckling at the interaction, but sobered when Ali turned back to them. "My lady, if you don't mind, can we make this fast? I would like to get these reports out to my scouts as soon as possible."

Ali didn't love the idea of being alone with Cullen, but there wasn't anything really pressing to discuss. She'd gotten into the habit of meeting with her advisors before setting off anywhere, and she'd asked them to stay more out of habit than anything else. She said as much to Leliana, and the Spymaster melted into the woods as silently as a deer.

Cullen fidgeted next to her, also aware that they were now sitting alone together in the middle of a giant clearing that anyone could walk through at any moment. "Shall I help you pack then, my... uh, shall I help you pack?"

She was glad he hadn't made their customary joke - it would have been too much to deal with on this particular morning. Despite all of her resolutions from earlier, she still felt a little off around him, and he was obviously feeling it too. Still, the only way things would get better is if they both powered through the awkwardness so she accepted his offer of help and they headed towards her tent.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?"

Was he trying to make _small talk_? Ali wondered how they could be reduced to such banality. Reminding herself that they just had to power through, she nodded. "It is. I'm glad the rain blew over. I'd hate to ride into the Approach during a storm."

He seemed reassured that she had answered pleasantly, and threw her a bit of a bone. "I spoke to Cole by the way. He agreed not to talk about what you all saw in the Fade." She could hear the unspoken spill words there, understood that Cole would also keep quiet about the other events of last night.

"Thank you. I was going to speak with him later."

That seemed to exhaust their supply of pleasantries, and they stopped trying to make conversation, walking the rest of the way in strained silence. She was relieved when they reached her tent, and she could focus on gathering up her few belongings and packing them away. Cullen went immediately to her makeshift desk and began sorting papers.

They worked quietly for awhile, not even trying to make conversation. Finally, Cullen held up a tightly rolled scroll. "Alinora? I'm not sure if you need this or not?"

Recognizing it, she nodded and gestured him over. "Yes, its the report for the scholar, Frederick of something-or-other. We'll probably ride out to check on him after we get to the Keep."

He stepped over to hand it to her, but as he did, he knocked a stack of folded clothes off her cot. He picked them up automatically, not recognizing that he was now holding a handful of her smallclothes.

"Sorry about tha--AARGH!" When he realized what they were, he freaked out and tossed them into the air before she could snatch them away. The light cloth scattered around the tent and floated gracefully down. To her horror, one slightly racy pair landed on his head before sliding down his back, making him recoil like it was a spider instead of a pair of knickers.

Ali laughed.

She couldn't help it, had in fact tried to say something dry and reassuring, but as soon as she opened her mouth, great whooping cackles of mirth streamed out of her. She tried to stop it, clamping hands over her face, but she caught a glimpse of his reddened face and was off again. It was all too much, too ridiculous, and she just couldn't stifle her reaction to, well... everything.

It was contagious. A beat behind her, he was laughing too, gripping his hair in his hands and slumping to the ground in a crouch. Ali collapsed onto the bed as his reaction made her laugh even harder, and for a few minutes they spurred each other on into greater and greater glee.

Finally they managed to control themselves. Ali was hiccuping and Cullen had tears streaking down his face, but at least they were calm. He wiped his eyes and looked at her, really looked at her for the first time this morning. "This is weird."

"Yeah. This is really weird." Ali was grateful that he noticed it too. "Fuck! I really thought everything would be normal."

"Yeah, I did too." He got off the floor and gathered up her strewn underthings, this time having no reaction to them. Dumping them onto Cassandra's cot, he sat next to the pile directly across from Ali. "Lady, I know this was one of those things we weren't going to talk about..."

"...but we have to talk about it?" She finished wryly. "I know. I just don't know what to say."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked at her from under his eyelashes. "I guess the big question is - do you wish it hadn't happened?"

She pressed her lips together and looked skyward, leaning back on her hands while she considered the question. "Well, I guess so, because it not happening would have meant that I hadn't fallen into the Fade in the ass-end of nowhere. Circumstances being as they are... no, I don't really regret it. I feel a little unbalanced about it, is all. Like now you know something personal about me, but that's pretty dumb, because we share lots of personal stuff. But you did the right thing, in case you were wondering."

Some of the strain left his face, and she realized that he had been wondering if he'd behaved as he should and could probably use more reassurance. "Look, that wasn't a thing we planned on happening, right? I mean, we have lines in our friendship - all friends do. We stepped over one of them last night, but that doesn't mean we can't draw a new one. Unless you regret it?"

Cassandra's bed was too low for him to sit on easily, and he had to lean forward over his outstretched legs to get comfortable. "I don't know. At the time, it seemed like the only option, and I still think that's true. Afterwards though..." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stick up in wild angles. "I don't know how to say this."

Ali looked around the tent like there might be an answer printed on the canvas. "Cullen, you were three fingers deep in me about twelve hours ago. I'm pretty sure you can just say whatever it is and I'll be understanding."

He took a deep breath, in and out and back in again, steeling himself for this. "I'm not in love with you."

This was the giant revelation she had to prepare for? "I'm not in love with you either."

"Shut up and let me get this out." He was annoyed now, which was better than being shy, so she accepted it as a victory. "I'm not in love with you. You're my best friend, and I respect the hell out of you, and not just because you're the Inquisitor. However, I haven't... erm... touched a woman in over two years. Last night, I sort of had a... reaction."

Awareness bloomed and she involuntarily looked at his leather clad crotch. "I see. And this was a problem, because... Oh Maker, it wasn't the demon was it?!?"

"No!" He was quick to reassure her. "She hasn't troubled me since the blizzard."

"Okay, so what then?" Ali couldn't believe she was about to ask this question, but her curiosity got the better of her. "Are you telling me that you've never thought about me while you were... you know?"

"Not like that." He was deadly serious, no embarrassment or laughter in his voice. "You were a wreck last night. The state you were in... well it wouldn't be right if I used that for... whatever."

His chivalry overwhelmed her sometimes, it really did. "Maker, you are one helluva good man, you know that right?"

Grim faced, he shook his head. "Not that good. I kept, like _smelling you_ on my hand, and it's been so long that parts of me just reacted. I tried to think of other things, but everything just slid right back to you against the tree."

"So what did you do?" Once again, curiosity compelled her to push more than she knew she should.

He gave a lopsided smile that stretched out his scar. "I went for a walk. Around and around the camp. Cole joined me, and we had a bit of a chat about things and I answered some very awkward questions about how certain parts work. Once it was dawn, I went to help with breakfast. They let me make the coffee."

"It was very good."

"Thank you."

Ali nibbled on her thumbnail trying to organize her thoughts. "So to sum up, we both want things to be normal, but they aren't. I feel weird because the balance of power has shifted, and you feel weird because you can't help but think about the whole thing in a sexy kind of light. Is that about right?"

"Yep, that's about the whole of it." His hands were back in his hair, alternately smoothing it back and messing it up. "So what in the Void do we do now?"

She had an idea, but it was kind of a terrible one. The more she thought about it though, the more it seemed like it would work. Really, it wasn't like they had any other option. "I think I need to return the favor."

He had clearly not been expecting _that_ , and his eyes widened in shock. "I'm sorry, I must have misheard. What did you say?"

Ali crossed the room to sit next to him. "Look, I lived in a dormitory for most of my life. I fully understand the way bodies can react to things. Sex is a sign of intimacy, not love; but everybody thinks of everybody else when they're alone. I'm sure you've thought about me, and Cassandra, and Vivienne and maybe even Sera. I've certainly replayed the image of you and Dorian making out a time or two."

He tipped his head forward into his hands, mumbling something about _Maker's sodding breath_.

The embarrassment was taking hold now, and she could feel her cheeks getting warm. She rushed out the rest of it before she reconsidered the whole thing. "Cullen, I'm not proposing sex, or even kissing. That would just trigger a bet somewhere and fuck things up even worse. All I'm talking about is hands below the waist, just like last night. If I take care of this then we can just go back to being equals, and you can have something else to think about during the long nights on the road."

He shifted around and looked at her through splayed fingers. "What if if it makes things weirder?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, unconcerned. She was sure it wouldn't. "We'd be right where we are now, wouldn't we? I won't do it if you don't want me to, but..." Pausing, she glanced down to the very visible bulge in his trews. "...It looks like you do kinda want me to touch your cock."

The vulgarity proved to be his undoing and he flopped backwards with an arm covering his face. "You're fucking right again, like you always are. Yes, I want you to touch my fucking cock. Get to it then."

His forced casualness almost made her giggle, but she managed to stay silent as she reached for him. This was the first thing all day that hadn't felt weird, or stilted or strange. It seemed perfectly natural to run her fingers up his growing erection, so she did.

"Oh fuck.." he hissed as a shudder ran through his whole body. Gratified, she made short work of his lacings and drew him out, impressed at his size.

"Of course you have a giant cock, you fuckwit." It felt normal, somehow to crack a joke at his expense while he lay before her, fully clothed but fully exposed. He laughed at it, just a little, before she gripped him tight around the hilt and his laugh turned into a groan.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck." He repeated it like a mantra, seemingly incapable of remembering any other words. She ran her hand up his length and flicked a finger over the head, noting the precum that covered her thumb. If he was this far gone so quickly, she realized, he must really have been in a bad way all night.

She shifted around on the bed, trying to get a better angle as she pumped her hand up and down. "Feel free to give me some commands here, Commander. I haven't done this since I was sixteen."

Without missing a beat, he snatched her hand and spit liberally into it before putting it back in place, wrapping his big hand around hers in an even tighter grip. He wasn't even saying words now, just growling from somewhere deep in his chest. He pumped her hand faster and faster, not giving himself a moment to rest. She could see his orgasm building, watched his eyes flutter closed and his breath catch. When he finally found his release, he was entirely silent as his body bucked, closing his hand and hers over the head of his cock to catch the result.

He lay there with his eyes shut, panting like he'd just run a race. Ali watched him for a moment, proud of herself for causing that reaction. Then, awkwardly, she realized she was sitting on Cassandra's bed, holding a handful of ejaculate and she dug in her pocket for the handkerchief she'd dutifully cleaned that morning. She turned away as she wiped down her hand, giving him some time to readjust himself. When he was put back to rights, she handed him the sticky piece of cloth. "I'm going to let you take care of the laundry this time."

He took it, then made a face when he realized what it was. "Maker, you're spoiled. You all right?"

Bless this man, always concerned for her welfare first. "Sure. How about you?"

Blinking, he gave her a befuddled smile. "I'm great. That was... better than I remembered."

She met his smile with one of her own, thrilled to realize that the air was clear and the strangeness of the day was effectively gone. "Well, I owed you one." She slapped his knee and stood. "I really do need to pack, though, and you did promise to help."

Cullen put a hand down on the bed as he rose, then froze as he realized something. "Fucking hell. Is this _Cassandra's_ bed?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't working for me the way I had it originally. It was full of angst, and not talking. These two wouldn't just *stop talking* so I rewrote it to this version. I still don't love it, but... what can you do?
> 
> I'm overwhelmed by the reaction to this fic, and want to thank everyone for the lovely comments and kudos. Do let me know if there's anything you want to see later in the fic, and if I can work it in, I will. 
> 
> All the thanks!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the delay with this one. My router is broken, and some chapters you just can't post on a work computer. I'm sitting in a coffee shop now, and if anyone is reading over my shoulder, shove off and mind your own business!

It takes almost two weeks for the army to get to Griffon Wing Keep. Three days of rest, followed by seven tedious days of marching, the entire group restricted to the speed of the slowest man. The slow pace is maddening, but there is no help for it. Many of the injured men will be staying at the keep, so their pace will almost double on the rest of the way home. For now, all Cullen can do is ride up and down the column, making plans and talking to his troops. Every night, he is the last to go to bed, only retiring once the camp is quiet and the day's duties are done.

He doesn't think about Ali during the day, besides his frequent prayers that she and her party be safe on their travels. Sometimes one of the soldiers asks if she'll still be at the keep when they arrived, but he has no answer to give them, save that the Inquisitor will be where she is most needed.

At night in his tent though - that is a different sort of thing altogether. As soon as he puffs out the candle her face appears in his mind and he snakes a hand down beneath the sheets. He doesn't even need to feel guilty - Ali has given him her full consent to think of her like this, so he does. He thinks of her pretty face suspended over him, eyes dark with desire, biting her lip in concentration as she reaches for him, focusing hard on getting it right, wanting to please him. He thinks about the way she ceded control and the little hiss of surprise she gave when he took it so easily, then the feel of her hand wrapped around his cock, just a tool for him to use as he wants. He wonders about taking control in other ways, wonders if he could have made her beg.

That question always sends his mind spinning out well past the bounds of reality. One night, he imagines Cassandra coming into the tent and scoffing at Ali, _that's not how you touch a man_ , and the two of them taking it in turn to try to please him best. The next night, he imagines Ali on the throne at Skyhold, ordering everyone else out of the keep while she forces him to his knees in front of her. He loves that one, loves the idea of the whole world waiting for her but being chosen instead, strong thighs wrapped around his head so he can't hear her cries but everyone else can. His favorite one is the one where he catches her and Hawke kissing in the Mage's tower but she pushes the Champion away and says _he can't make me come_ and _I need you Cullen_ and _how can I make this up to you_.

The only one he regrets, the only one that makes him uncomfortable, is one night when he imagines her returning from the road and climbing into his bed, rubbing her cold nose along his neck until she finds his lips, wiggling underneath him as he makes love to her slowly, falling asleep entwined together, safe and warm. He stops before he reaches his release and leaves his tent to walk a lap of the camp. That one feels like a wish, not a fantasy, and thinking of her like that isn't part of the agreement and will only muddy the waters of their hard-won friendship.

The long days pass a bit faster because he has something to look forward to at night. Beyond that, he feels like he is waking up, like he's regained something long since lost. If getting off lyrium makes him feel like a man again, this slow rediscovery of pleasure makes him feel like a _young_ man. Sometimes he remembers that he is barely thirty with something like surprise and now there is a twinge of hope that he might still have time to find a woman to love, that this part of him isn't broken beyond repair.

Seven days after they set out from Adament, Cullen rides over a ridge and sees the Keep spread out below. Through his spyglass, he can see the Inquisition's flag flying proudly, and below that, the plain green flag that indicated the Inquisitor is in residence. She is still here.

*****

Ali put down her own spyglass and waved at the troops even though she knew they were still too far out to see her. She hollered out orders to make ready for the incoming troops and get the Commander's flag ready in preparation for the arrival before sliding down the ladder to the upper courtyard.

It's been a productive few days. The bandits have been routed, and the Keep's water supply is secure. They still need to deal with the darkspawn to the north, but she'd waited an extra day before setting out, hopeful that their troops would arrive. They probably could have taken care of them already, but the chance at another dragon was too good to pass up.

As she cut across the yard, she stopped to admire the huge glistening skull they'd placed in a position of honor. It was lucky Dorian had been there - his necromancer training gave him the skills to strip the damn thing down to bone without any tedious boiling. It was a terrifying trophy, and all but intact save for the one tooth the mage had dug out with the help of Varric's boot-knife. Ali knew Cullen was going to have something to say about the hunt, but she hoped that the feast of dragon-steak that night would go a long way towards making him admit she'd done well.

Besides... it had been for a good cause. Bull was talking to one of the vendors, unconsciously fingering the talisman he now wore around his neck. She'd known for months that something was going on between the Qunari and the Tevinter mage, but she hadn't suspected that it was love. Not until a few nights ago, when Dorian had approached her with unforeseen timidity and explained nervously that he needed a dragon's tooth and why. Apparently it was a sign of something like betrothal, and Ali was thrilled to be able to help.

Varric had helped too, carefully chipping the tooth in half and wrapping each end in wire. He and Ali had found a reason to duck out of camp that night, claiming a nug-hunt under the full moon. The next morning, Dorian and Bull both wore necklaces, and both looked like they'd been ridden hard and put away wet. Ali hadn't commented, not wanting them to feel like they needed to explain their new relationship to her, but secretly, she had celebrated like her Mama must have done when her oldest sister got married.

Now, as she trotted across the keep, she saw the two lovers sitting side by side on the battlements sharing a piece of fruit. She hollered up that the troops were incoming, but didn't further disturb them. Instead, she headed for her temporary quarters, hoping to at least brush out her hair before everyone arrived.

Two hours later, Cullen and Leliana rode through the front doors of the Keep. Ali was more or less groomed and met them with a formal offer of welcome. She accepted their courtesies, then asked them to join her on a tour of the walls. Neither advisor had seen the interior of the Keep before, and they both jumped at the chance. They walked for a time, catching each other up on the events of the last few days.

*****

"So the well wasn't poisoned, but there were some very nasty things living down there. I cleaned them out, but you'll need to leave orders for regular patrols down there."

Cullen nodded, making a note on the bit of slate he carried. "Shouldn't be a problem. Once the injured are recovered, there will be more than enough men to take care of whatever comes up."

"Excellent, thank you." The first thing she'd asked about was a status report of the injured, and she'd nearly fallen over with relief that they hadn't lost anybody else on the march into the Keep.

Beside her, Leliana had the quirk to her mouth that meant she espied some gossip. "So about that dragon-skull..."

Ali sighed. She'd glossed over the dragon in her earlier report, hoping without much conviction that they would accept it as a done deal. "Yes, what about it? I already explained that I didn't know for sure that it would attack us."

"Right, but you had a hunch. Honestly, Inquisitor, you must be more cautious about your personal safety." Cullen was all puffed up at his very most pompous. "If you'd been injured..."

"Yeah, yeah." Ali waved away his concern. "The Inquisition would fall, the lyrium would spread and the world would end. But I needed a tooth, and this was the best way to get one."

Leliana's smirk had turned into full scale glee and she clapped her hands together girlishly. "Oh, how romantic! Well done!"

Cullen deflated a little bit and looked nervous. "What's romantic about a dragon's tooth?"

The spymaster gasped that he didn't know. "Sten told me all about this once upon a time. You take a dragon's tooth and split it in half and give it to your beloved. It's a very important gesture, and I thought I saw Bull wearing one earlier. How exciting! I must write Josephine at once!" She scampered off in the direction of the rookery, apparently unable to wait even a single second before spreading the good news.

"So you gave a dragon's tooth to Bull?" Cullen looked decidedly green, and Ali realized with a start that he was both completely jealous and completely willing to support her decision if she'd... what, decided that she wanted to live happily ever after with The Iron Bull?

Full of gratitude that recent events had left their friendship inherently intact, she shook her head, chuckling. "No, I just found another dragon for Dorian to kill. He dug the tooth out himself and he gave half of it to Bull. Apparently the Qunari don't have marriage, so this is how you show ultimate commitment."

He was dumbfounded. "Wow. I knew they were, um, involved, but I had no idea that it was so serious." He stood stock-still for a minute and thought things over before a wide, dimpled grin spread across his face. "This is wonderful, isn't it?"

"It really is. I do wish we had bigger tents though. They broke right through the walls of one of them, and there are some things you just can't unsee." She gave an exaggerated shudder then pointed down the hallway. "Shall we walk? I'll show you where the scouts hide out."

They climbed the stairs up to the little lookout room, Ali stomping her feet hard to give any Wicked Grace players a chance to hide their cards. When she pushed the door open, however, the room was empty. The feast was starting soon, and she supposed that hot meat was a bigger draw than yet another round of a game they played constantly.

Thankful for the solitude, she pulled Cullen over to the window. Tilting his head towards the light, she ignored his protests and pushed up his eyelids, checking him for signs of withdrawal. "How has everything been? Any problems with lyrium or demons?"

Grasping her wrists, he moved her hands away from his face. "No, you old worrywart. Everything has been fine. Really, I haven't had any troubles."

"Okay." She was glad to hear he was okay, but needed a little more... reassurance? "And the rest? Is that okay too?"

"Ah." He blushed a little but didn't pull away. "That's been fine too. Very relaxing, really. And you? Any problems?"

"Also fine." Ali wasn't sure what she could say to that questions. She couldn't tell him about the idle thoughts that crossed her mind on the long rides - thoughts of fingers stretching her out, or of warm skin holding her solid as she threatened to break apart. She really couldn't tell him about the long nights in camp when overheard sounds from the other tent made her wonder what it might be like to be tossed around and taken so basely; be be conquered and taken and... woof. She definitely couldn't tell him about those thoughts. "Everything is fine."

"Right. Well then." He looked like he wanted to ask something else but shook the thought away and changed the subject. "So the Hissing Wastes then. How long do you plan to be gone?"

She shrugged, looking out the window towards the sunset. "Dunno. Depends on what we find there. Harding reports a lot of Venatori activity and I'd really like to break their foothold there. Still, you'll be with the army, so we may still beat you back to Skyhold."

"So around two months then?" He came behind her and started rubbing her shoulders, digging his thumbs into the spots where she was always tense. "Are you taking the same bunch with you?"

"Mmmhmm. Varric is interested in the dwarven stuff, and I figure it will be like a honeymoon for...oh." His fingers hit a particularly knotty spot and she moaned, slumping forwards to rest her forehead against the wall.

Whether it was the the moan or the mention of their friend's honeymoon, she wasn't sure. Either way, Cullen's fingers stilled for a second. When he moved them again, the massage was softer, nicer and moving slowly down her back. There was an edge of roughness to his voice as he leaned in and spoke next to her ear. "I've been thinking lady. We're in the middle of a war, and both of us have obligations. Neither of us can have what they have found, not until this is over. If you wanted, I could.. we could..." His hands were on her waist now, and she felt the size of them as he splayed them over her hips before tracing his thumbs along the curve of her backside. "Tell me to stop."

Ali couldn't believe how quickly she switched from pleasure at seeing her friend to just _pleasure_. It could have been the tone of his voice, or the way his hands were sliding possessively over her hips, but she suddenly felt like all of her bones were melting. Almost instantly, she was wet, and throbbing, and couldn't think of a single thing that could make her ask him to take his hands off of her. She groaned again, bracing her hands on the wall, tilting her head back to rest on the soft fur of his collar and hissing out, "I'll kill you if you stop."

"Violent little thing, aren't you." His voice was still rough, but there was a warmth to it now that spread corresponding heat thrumming along her limbs. He pulled her back against him with an arm around her midsection while his other hand started working on her trousers. He seemed to remember the rules from before and didn't try to kiss her. Instead, his head was nestled against hers, and the feel of his breath along her sensitive skin was somehow so much better than if he had gone for her lips.

And then she forgot all about kissing because his hand was suddenly _there_ and oh fuck, he remembered how she liked it. His fingers circled her opening, teasing her until she gasped, then plunged inside, first one finger than two, curling forwards, stretching her out just like she'd dreamt about. She realized he was talking to her, low words in her ear, telling her _so hot, so tight, look how you want this, do you want more_ and she managed to gasp out another assent.

He gave her more. The arm around her tightened, and she pressed herself backwards into his immovable form, feeling the length of him pressed up against her and a specific length of him pressing into her rear. When he moved a calloused thumb over her clit, she shuddered against him, and the friction on his cock just made him hold her tighter.

The rhythm of his fingers was going to be the death of her. He gave her no quarter, no rest from the relentless pressure on her sensitive clit or the vibrations of his fingers as he plunged them in and out of her. She could feel it in her whole body, but especially in her belly, low and intense and sweet. When she felt the orgasm come upon her, she bit her lip to stay silent as it coursed through her body like a flood of ecstasy, sweeping away days of frustration and duty and leaving behind only a pleasant sort of numbness. As the aftershocks took her, Cullen removed his hand but kept one arm around her, still immovable at her back, still holding her up, still keeping her safe.

She turned in his arms and started to reach for his trousers, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her. In a much different tone of voice that he'd been using, he murmured in her ear. "Don't. You can get me back at Skyhold, once you return safely from the Wastes."

Even through her buzzed state, she understood. Returning the favor right away would be too much intimacy, too close to real sex. Cullen was cleaning his hand with that same handkerchief and when he handed it to her wordlessly, she realized they'd come to an agreement without every really saying so. Favors returned, back and forth but with no kissing and no penetration and if you made the mess on the handkerchief you need to clean it up.

Ali passed a hand over her hair, checking for disorderly strands. She knew she would be red-cheeked, but that could hopefully be chalked up to the heat. She smiled up at Cullen who was watching her with an amused expression, seemingly charmed by the way she fussed with her hair. She blushed even harder, more embarrassed by from this than by what had just happened. Shaking off the feeling, she gestured towards the door. "Shall we head down to the feast then?"


	30. Chapter 30

The Inquisitor didn't beat them back to Skyhold in the end. The closer they got to the fortress, the more the troop's spirits rose at the thought of the tavern and warm beds, so every night they pushed themselves further and further. Cullen was happy to let them - after almost four months on the road he too felt the pull of home.

As they passed by Redcliffe, a small group of traders fell in with them. They were on the way to Skyhold, their leader explained, and hoped to travel the rest of the way with the troops for safety's sake. Cullen was quick to agree, and asked them to join Leliana and him at their fire that night to share news picked up on the road.

It was a small caravan, dealing primarily with household goods and sundries. The lead trader was a grizzled old man from Antiva, though his accent was muddled after years of travel. That night, he brought along three of his men - his son Ferdinand, an Fereldan named Lucas and a young ginger named Johnny who spoke with a broad 'Marcher accent.

The last one intrigued Cullen a bit. Though he never really considered Kirkwall home, it was always nice to get bits of news for around those parts. There was something familiar about Johnny that he couldn't place, some tilt of his head that tugged at the edges of his memory. Like as not, Cullen decided, he'd seen the boy a time or two, or perhaps met his father at some point.

"Where are you from lad?" He asked the other man as he passed around the skin of wine.

Johnny seemed a bit shy, and he slumped forward, making himself as small as possible. It wasn't easy since he was a rather large boy, but he tried his hardest. Still, he wasn't so bashful as to avoid a direct question, though he directed his gaze into the fire and spoke in almost a whisper. "Ostwick, when I was young. Then all over after that."

"Ostwick, you say? Did you know the Inquisitor there? Lady Trevelyan, I mean." Leliana was leaning forwards with interest, never one to miss a chance to add to her collection of facts and rumor.

"Nay, my lady. I don't reckon so. But Trevelyan's are thick on the ground up in Ostwick, so mebbe I did." His eyes widened in shock at his own informality. "Beggin' your lady's pardon! I din't mean no disrespect to the Herald of Andraste."

Cullen and Leliana shared a glance, both knowing that Ali would never be offended by such speak. "No harm done lad, but I'll just take this for now, shall I?" Cullen reached over and gently pulled the wineskin out of the boy's hands. "Will you be staying long? I suspect Lady Trevelyan would like to speak with you when she returns, if only to hear your accent."

Johnny stammered a little but eventually confirmed that yes, the caravan would be staying for a week or so, and oh how honored he'd be to get to meet the Inquisitor in person. Just then, a runner came with a dispatch for Cullen. He excused himself from the fire and walked away to the sounds of the lad wondering what his dear old mother would think of her little boy getting to meet the Herald of Andraste.

*****

The Herald herself rode in on a bright morning three days later, covered in road dust but jubilant at the news of yet another dragon fight. Cullen was on the walls when she rode in and proclaimed her victory, but he could only shake his head at her when she looked up at him triumphantly. He'd given up on the dragons - no matter what he said, she and her merry band of misfits would seek them out wherever they went.

She pointed up at him with a huge grin before dismounting. As she gathered up her things, she pointed to herself, then towards her quarters, then made a scrubbing motion on her head. Cullen laughed, recognizing her need for a bath. He smiled back, waving his hand in front of his nose in the universal 'you-stink' gesture. She glance around to make sure she was unobserved, then lifted her Anchor hand in a very foul gesture before scampering off towards the Keep.

Across the courtyard, Cullen noticed the boy Johnny staring at her with a look of open astonishment. He'd caught the exchange, and was clearly shocked by the actions of the great Herald of Andraste. Cullen made a mental note to corral the boy in a little while and get him into see Ali before he could start any rumors. Besides, he figured, her good mood would only be improved with news from home.

*****

He got his chance as he headed towards the hall for lunch. The official debriefing would happen tomorrow, but he had a few things to discuss with Ali first - namely, the party that night for Dorian and Bull. Josephine had wanted to throw a giant formal affair upon their return, but Cullen had tried to talk her out of doing anything at all; arguing that as much as Dorian loved attention, he would be uncomfortable with so much scrutiny aimed at such a personal matter. In the end, Leliana had interceded, proposing a more informal celebration of both the marriage and the victory at Adamant. Bull and Dorian could hide in the tavern with just close friends raising toasts and having a good time. Ali would be pressed to give a speech, and he knew she'd appreciate a little forewarning about that.

Along the way he stopped by the stall that Johnny had set up. He waited patiently while Master Dennet fretted about which type of sugar to buy, then asked the lad to join him for lunch. He didn't mention the Inquisitor, not wanting the boy to work himself into a fit of shyness ahead of time. They cut through Solas's solar, but he didn't stop to make introductions, pushing through the door into the keep and looking around for Ali. Josephine was talking to Blackwall, but when she saw Cullen she motioned to the War Room door.

He led Johnny through the office to where Ali stood, leaning against the desk and studying the markers on the map. He motioned the boy back, excited to have a surprise for her, knowing how happy any news from home would make her. He'd seen it when she talked about her dream, seen how much she missed her family and what it cost her to stay removed from them for their safety.

"Hey lady. Welcome home." He stood in the doorway, blocking her view of the outside hallway. "Glad to see you cleaned up - you were a bit of a fright when you came in."

She stuck out her tongue at him, but there was no malice in it. She looked as she always did these days - grateful to be home and happy to see him. "Cullen. Nice of you to join us. Leliana was about to tell me about the piss-up you've planned for tonight. It's a grand idea."

There was movement behind him and Cullen remembered his original intentions. "Yes, well you'll hear all about it. I've a bit of a surprise for you first - we have a new lad abouts you might like to meet. Inquisitor, I'd like you to meet Johnny from Ostwick."

He stepped aside and the boy stepped inside. Only... he didn't look like a boy anymore. Instead of a the gawky, uncomfortable stance of a lad of seventeen or eighteen, Johnny now stood tall like a man grown. His face was slack, and he only had eyes for Alinora.

"Leelee... look at you..." Even his voice was different, all the bashfulness gone and in its place, the calm surety of a man staring at his long sought goal.

Ali looked like she'd been punched in the gut. White faced, she clung to the side of the War Table like she was drowning. "How?" The single word slipped past her lips and then suddenly she was moving, skidding around the Table as she ran at them.

Unconsciously, Cullen lifted an arm to stop her but she didn't pause, just planted a splayed hand on his chest and _shoved_ him backwards as she threw herself into the arms of probably-not-really-named-Johnny, burying her face in his neck and clutching him around his chest. He picked her up and hugged her back, then ran a hand over her hair, almost crooning to her. "I thought you were dead, Lee. They said you were dead, and I thought you were gone, here you are. "

Cullen thought he was having a heart attack. A moment ago, he'd been so excited at this surprise, but now... now Alinora was standing the the War Room _hugging_ this man, this man who had lied to them and snuck his way in and oh Maker who was he? Surely she would have said if she'd had someone, even if she'd lost them... right? Surely she wouldn't have... if she was...

The thought of what they'd been doing in the Western Approach combined with his suspicions about not-Johnny finally spurred him to action. All he wanted was for her to be content and happy and he had no claim on her affections. He couldn't stay here in this room and risk ruining whatever was making her cry the fat tears of love that were streaking down her face. Leliana was standing next to him, shell-shocked, and didn't react when he grabbed her sleeve and hauled her out the door into the hallway.

Ali didn't even notice they'd left.

*****

Leliana spoke first. "Commander, do you know who he really is?"

Cullen shook his head, not trusting his voice. He leaned against the wall and concentrated on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in again, all the while fighting the urge to tear down the door and smash his fist into not-Johnny's face.

The spymaster just seemed to be in shock. "He fooled me. No one ever fools me." She came to stand beside him but seemed to think better of it and slid down the wall to sit on the hard stone floor. "He played me _perfectly_."

They stood like that for perhaps a quarter of an hour, both silent as they strained to hear anything from inside the room. Cullen was wracking his brain for an urgent errand to send in to Ali when his Templar senses erupted with the feel of a _crackle_ in the Fade.

 _Assassin_! Without a second thought he launched himself into the War Room, then through the open door and up to her quarters, drawing his sword and preparing to draw blood.

*****

Ali shrieked when he burst through the door, but he didn't spare a glance at her. Instead, he focused immediately at the man currently brandishing the Inquisitor's ceremonial sword. In two long steps, Cullen covered the space between them and effortlessly knocked away the other man's sword. He was growling, low and deep in his chest at the thought of someone sneaking in to threaten _his_ Inquisitor, and he didn't think twice about grabbing not-Johnny by his throat and slamming him into the wall.

Behind him, Ali was saying something, but he paid her no heed, focused entirely on the gasping man in front of him. "Who are you? Who sent you?"

"Release him at once Commander!" Luckily, Cullen's years of training meant that he automatically obeyed an order from a superior office, provided it was presented in a suitably official shout. He dropped the man and stepped back, sword still at the ready. Infuriatingly, Ali rushed to the other man's side and helped him to his feet before turning a fiery gaze on him.

"Would you care to explain, or did you just decide to kill my little brother for no reason?"

"Brother?" Oh no. _Oh shit_.

Horror filled her face and quickly faded into guilt. "Didn't I mention that?"

The man next to her coughed and poked her in the side. "Mama will have kittens when I tell her you forgot to make your courtesies." Stepping forward, he sketched a perfect bow, complete with tipped foot and outstretched hands. "Bragi Trevelyan, son of Lord Robert Trevelyan. At your service, serrah."

"Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the armies of the Inquisition." Cullen bowed back automatically, still processing the information. He'd assumed her greeting was one of love, and it was, but love for a brother was an entirely different matter. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord." Taking a risk, he stretched out his hand. "Please accept my apologies for the hasty attack."

Bragi nodded and shook his hand, grasping it firmly. "Never apologize for something we can blame on Leelee. First rule of the family."

Ali gasped in mock shock. "Bragi! Mind yourself! The first rule of the Trevelyan family is don't put coffee in the teacups!"

Her brother screwed up his face and said in a lilting falsetto, "Because those stains will never come out."

The two siblings laughed in unison, identical grins across their bright faces. Seeing them together, Cullen realized exactly why he'd seemed so familiar on first meeting. Sure Bragi was ginger where Ali was dark, and their features had nothing in common, but he'd spent enough time making Ali smile to recognize her grin when he saw it, even if it was on someone else's face. He cleared his throat, glad to be forgiven but intensely aware that he was intruding. "Inquisitor, Lord Trevelyan, I'll see you both later."

"No, Cullen please." She caught him before he could reach the door. "I'd like it if you stayed."

He let himself be dragged over to the little desk and settled into a chair. He had to admit, he was awfully curious to meet another Trevelyan, and he hadn't spent any time with Ali in months. "Sure thing. But first, tell me what was going on up here? I felt some rift magic and assumed you were attacked."

"Oh." To his shock, Ali blushed and Bragi started to snicker. "I was showing off my sword and he asked why I don't carry it, so I wanted to show him what the Anchor could do. I didn't even think that it might cause you any problems. I am sorry if it did."

Bragi looked confused. "Why would it cause you any problems. Oh! Are you the Templar?" A mercenary glint appeared in his eye. "How are you fixed for lyrium? I have some if you want to buy extra."

Cullen felt the typical fishhook pull behind his sternum at the thought of lyrium, but it was an old reaction and one he could ignore with only some effort. Next to him, Ali flinched and he reached out to clasp her elbow, reassuring her. "Thank you but no. I don't take it anymore."

"Really? How did you stop?" Bragi had flopped down on the divan, but now he was sitting back up, clearly fascinated.

"Leave it Brags." Cullen recognized Ali's tone - it was the same one his older sister Mia used to use on him. It was a tone that promised swift and brutal punishment for further misbehavior, and it was a tone no little brother would ever disobey.

"Nevermind then." Bragi sunk back down on the couch but did apologize. "It's just professional curiosity, mind. I'm in the trade."

"Really? Ali never mentioned you work for the Chantry." This intrigued Cullen, and he was surprised he hadn't known about it already. A connection to the Chantry could be a valuable one, and something Josephine would be excited to capitalize on.

"Ummm..." Ali looked even more uncomfortable now. "Bragi is sort of our... resident smuggler. Even in legitimate business, Papa sometimes needs someone to... find things for him."

Bragi popped up again, swinging his legs off the couch and moving to flip through the bookcase. "I do everything but people and nugs. Otherwise, if you need it, I'll get it. I started pulling lyrium a while back, to have an excuse to stop by the Circle and see my dear sister. Why are all the naughty bits dog eared in these novels?"

"They arrived that way. Speaking of arrivals, does Papa know you're here?" Ali let the teasing roll right off her back like she hadn't even noticed it, and Cullen realized she might not have. He'd always assumed that she was the rebellious one of her family, magical daughter who wore too much kohl and fucked boys in stables. Watching Bragi prowl around the room like a caged animal made him reconsider his assumptions, and he wondered if the rest of the Trevelyan family was this energetic.

"They knew I was coming, just not when." He'd moved on to her mantle, gently pushing around the knickknacks lined up there. "I had to go to Orzammar for the lyrium, beggin' your pardon Culls. You'll remember Rabbie, my second? Once we hit the Frostbacks I asked him to go ahead so I could go see about a lady. He may have gotten the impression that I'm in love with a married lady from Denerim... so..."

"And how exactly did he get that idea?"

"Because he saw the letter that Nessa forged and I left lying about. Rabbie is a good man, and I trust him, but this was family-only. Speaking of letters, Leelee, I have a batch for you." From his boots he drew two sealed packets. Cullen knew from long experience what it was like to carry things in your shoes for long periods of time, and his estimation of Bragi rose another notch.

Ali accepted the letters like they were the holiest of relics. Carefully, she pulled the onion-skin pages out of the packet and started to look through them, lost in the sight of familiar handwriting.

"You should read Mama's first. The others won't make sense without it."

Without protest or apology, Ali sank down on the divan, eyes devouring the words hungrily. Wanting to give her what privacy he could, Cullen turned his attention back to the problem of having her brother at Skyhold. "Bragi, do you mind if we talk shop for a moment? I know Ali will want to take you around and show you off, but it's a risk to let the world know who you are."

"Its why I came in as Johnny. I figured I would just stay him until I left."

"Won't work." Cullen shook his head, wishing Leliana had come upstairs with him. This was much more her line of work than his. "That party tonight? It's to celebrate the marriage of Tevinter Mage with a Qunari giant. No green merchant lad would be able to attend, but your mention of Orzammar gave me a thought."

"BOOTS?" Ali's shout disrupted his train of thought, and both he and Bragi jumped at the sound.

"Mama wants me to marry Boots? Is she nuts?" Ali's face was one of such indignation that Cullen couldn't help but laugh at her, even as she spoke about... who?

"Boots?"

"Yes Boots!" Ali repeated, waving the letter in the air like it explained everything . "Sebastian, otherwise known as Sebootles, or Boots! Mama has proposed that I marry him."

Bragi shook his head and rubbed his temples tiredly. "Read the rest of the letter Leelee. She isn't forcing you to do anything, just offering options. She thought if you were being pressured to marry, you might appreciate a chaste one, where you would have no pressure to produce heirs, or even see the man. Weirdly, she really does want what's best for you but you know Mama. Marriage is always her first thought. There's some more practical ideas further along."

"Oh." Mollified, Ali returned to the letter and Bragi returned his attention to Cullen. "So what's my cover story then?"

Cullen tapped a finger to his lips, quite looking forwards to this. "I think it's best if you're an old friend from Kirkwall, but we'll need someone to fill in the details. I know just the man for the job."

"No sense in putting it off." Bragi slapped the desk and stood, heading for the door. "We'll leave you to your letters, Lady Boots."

Ali replied with a rude gesture to her brother, but as Cullen passed in front  of her she reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. He wanted to say how thankful he was that he could help with this, and how much it meant that he was the one who got to meet her brother first. Instead of trying to find words, he just squeezed her hand back briefly and led Bragi down the stairs.

*****

By the time the party was in full swing, Cullen was half convinced that Bragi was actually a friend of Varric's from the old country. The dwarf had brought his usual gusto to the task and embellished what could have been a simple tale (one of Aveline's lieutenants from the guard had gone into merc work) and made it into a work of art, (no shit, remember the time that Johnny here infiltrated the gang of Lowtown thugs that were slashing up trousers?)

The rest of the inner circle knew who he was, of course, and everyone wanted to meet their boss's younger brother. Leliana was trying to recruit him as an agent, but she faced competition from Sera who tried to sell him on the possibility of being a Red Jenny, since he was _only sorta noble, right, and yer sister is a good sport about it_. It turned out that Josephine was starting to prepare for the excursion to the Winter Palace, and extracted a promise that Bragi would stick around to help with the dancing lessons; assuming that of course all Trevelyan siblings would have had tutoring in such things.

For his part, Cullen was happy to sit back and watch Ali. She flitted from group to group making toasts and kissing cheeks. He thought he could sit like this forever, watching her grow red-cheeked from the wine and her brother's teasing, happy to be amongst her family, both born and found.

"You sleeping with my sister then?" He'd been engrossed in watching Ali do a stomping jig with Bull and hadn't noticed Bragi had snuck up behind him to flop down on the bench.

This wasn't a new question, but one Cullen was glad he could honestly answer. "No."

"Too bad. You seem a likely sort of fellow." Bragi tapped glasses with him before downing his drink. "You love her though, right?"

Ah. So this was that conversation -  the _I'm trusting you with my sister so please keep her safe because I can't_. "Yes. I do, we all do. And... she's saving the world."

"Ah." Bragi went to take another drink but was frustrated to find it empty so Cullen passed him his beer. "Cheers mate. Do you have siblings?"

"Mmm.. three of them. One older, two younger. I used to think that was a lot."

The redhead snorted, just like Ali did when she was amused. "Aye, our family is something else. Our hearts broke when she went off to the Circle, mine especially. We're not even a year apart, her and I. One day we were best friends - causing trouble and making plans. And then it was all over. I can still see how she looked, the day she left. She stood between these two armored brutes with her head held high and thanked Mother and Father for their hospitality. If it had been me, I would have clung to their legs and wailed but she just made the best of it. She always did - always was the one to make the best of it. I was lost without her... And now she's here, and she's doing so much good, and I'm just... I'm so grateful that she doesn't have to do it alone."

Somewhere in that monologue the barback had dropped off two full tankards. Picking one up, Cullen raised in a toast. "To big sisters then. May they always have little brothers at their backs."

*****

Inspired by Bragi's words, Cullen escaped the party soon after. He sat at his desk with clean parchment and sharpened quill and began to write.

_Dear Mia,_

_I apologize for the lack of correspondence thus far, and I assure you, it is not out of any ill-favor or lack of care. The Inquisition does well, and_

His thoughts were interrupted by the squeaking of hinges as his door creaked open, Ali's head popping through the gap. "I saw you sneak out. Am I interrupting?"

"Never, lady." He tossed the quill down and leaned back in his chair, delighted to realize that just as he'd been watching her all night, she'd been watching him. "I was inspired to write a letter to my sister and thought to get it done before the impulse faded. Do we need to go back there?"

Shrugging, Ali perched on the edge of his desk. "Eventually. We have a little time though and I've barely seen you in months." She used the toe of her boot to shove his chair backwards and gave a slow smirk. "Besides, I owe you a favor, and I intend to pay my debt."


	31. Chapter 31

"... two three four, to the side, then front, then two, three, _shit_!"

"You poxy son of a _whore_!" Ali leapt back, hopping on one foot as she tried to grab the other one. She'd lost track of the dance and left a foot exposed, which her dear baby brother had promptly trod on with all his not insubstantial weight.

Instead of sympathy, she got a smirk. "Don't talk about your mother that way." Bragi reached out and pulled her back into formation, ready to start the blasted dance over.

They'd been at this for hours. Bragi had been at Skyhold for over a week, and up until today Ali had loved every second of it. To keep up appearances, he'd bedded down on Varric's floor, but every day they'd spent hours together, roaming the grounds around the Fortress. Their visits in the Circle tower had always been somewhat supervised, so it was lovely to get to have real conversations, catching up on everything they'd missed over the last fourteen years.

This morning however, Josephine had cornered the two of them and all but ordered them to prove that Alinora could, as claimed, dance. Ali had taken many dance lessons as a child, but she'd been as shocked as anyone that none of them had stuck around into adulthood. Josephine had declared her unfit for the Winter Palace and demanded that she get better at it - today.

Leliana had come out with her lute to provide music, though she and Josephine had spent most of the time huddled on the dais gossiping while the bard strummed chords automatically. Infuriatingly, they were speaking too softly for Ali to eavesdrop on their conversation.

At least she wasn't alone. She glanced to the side to where Cullen was being henpecked by Vivienne in his own lesson. Despite all of Cullen's protestations that he couldn't and wouldn't dance, the ladies in charge decided that he must be prepared for _all_ eventualities. Cassandra and Dorian had passed Josephine's tests, and had mocked them mercilessly as they fled the hall early that morning. Varric, showing his uncommonly good timing, had disappeared entirely just before the runner reached him.

She and Cullen had suffered with reasonably good grace through the first three dances, but this dance, the Antivan Valz, was the tipping point on Ali's patience. "Dammit, Runt! Stop stepping on my toes!"

"Dammit Twit! Stop putting your toes under my steps!" The use of his old childhood nickname had made Bragi respond in kind, but his flared temper faded quickly back to his usual joviality. "Seriously, Leelee, why do you keep missing the steps?"

"Dunno. I just do." Ali shrugged halfheartedly, not wanting to admit how frustrated she was with herself. When she'd pictured dancing at the ball, she'd thought of childhood dreams of whirling effortlessly around a ballroom, floating on air in the arms of a handsome prince. Instead, she was clomping gracelessly around the scaffolding in her drafty Keep, sweaty and bedraggled in the arms of her little brother.

"Well, whatever it is, this isn't working. How are you doing over there Viv?"

Ali expected one of Vivienne's trademarked sharp retorts at the use of such a familiar nickname, but it seemed Madame de Fer was actually _fond_ of her stupid ugly brother. She let go of Cullen immediately and drew Bragi away for a whispered chat with Josie and Leliana. Ali overheard the words _hopeless_  and _gauche_ and decided this was a conversation she didn't want to overhear. Instead she took a long pull from the waterskin on the table and tossed it to a very annoyed Cullen.

They passed the skin back and forth for a bit, each time taking a step closer to the door to the gardens. Josephine had locked them all at the start of the lesson, but Ali was reasonably confident that if they made it to the door she could hold the rest of them off long enough for Cullen to bash it down.

"Both of you stop that right now!" Josephine's voice echoed throughout the hall. Busted, the pair started slinking back the way they'd come.

"We could just let the Empress die, you know." Cullen whispered out of the side of his mouth.

"Trust me, I'm considering it." Ali whispered back.

Back at the front of the hall, Bragi and Vivienne looked decidedly smug. "Your brother and I have identified the problem. You-" The sorceress leveled a finger at Ali, "have no sense of timing or footwork. Whereas you -" the finger snapped over to Cullen, "tromp around like a solider."

"I _am_ a soldier." Cullen protested, but no one paid attention. Instead, Bragi moved around behind him while Vivienne stood at Ali's back, pushing the two of them together.

"You two must learn from each other. This is a dance, not a battle. You must be both sure-footed and graceful. Think of this as a _seduction_."

Ali waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Cullen, which tipped him over from annoyance into... well, slightly resigned annoyance. "Fine. But unless you want me to _seductively_ break your toes, let me take my boots off first."

Any hopes Ali'd had left were dashed as soon as they began dancing. They were much worse together than apart, and only Vivienne's flanking arms kept her moving in anything close to the right direction. They stumbled around the same triangle for what felt like hours, until Ali angrily groused, "How long is this damn song, anyway?"

Bragi laughed at her from where he was gripping Cullen's shoulders. "It'll go on until you get this right, or your feet fall off. Even odds as to which one will come fist."

She flicked her gaze up to meet Cullen's. "I don't want to die like this," she pleaded.

A muscle in his jaw clenched and she saw determination there. Closing his eyes, he started to count under his breath as he took a firm hold on the back of her shirt and started moving her through the steps with her.

They weren't much better this time around, but even the marginal improvement was enough to make Bragi and Vivienne step back. Ali started to step into the next move without having to think about it, but she noticed his arms were still tense and unyielding. "Can you relax at all? Pretend you're holding your shield at rest and let your elbow unlock a little." He followed her suggestion, and they improved a tiny bit more.

At last, Leliana's song changed slightly, the slower chords meant to indicate the close of the song. Ali panicked and looked to Bragi - they had never made it to the end before. Chuckling, Bragi moved in towards the pair.

"Sis, step in a little closer, no keep the pattern. Cullen, slide your hand around and bend at the waist. You're going to dip her down." They did as bid, albeit clumsily. "Right, now Ali I want you to kick up your foot, no the other foot. Just straighten out your knee and point your toe and keep your back straight. Excellent, now Cullen I want you to lean down and kiss her."

" _What_?!?" They both shouted in unison and released each other. Unfortunately, they'd already completed the dip and Ali went crashing to the floor, knocking an elbow against the hard stone.

"What the fuck was that, you little fuck?" From her prone position, Ali kicked out and just missed his shin. Above her, Cullen looked to be considering a similar move, but settled for giving her a hand up then promptly facing the other way, letting her deal with him.

"Uh..." Bragi was trying to look contrite, but failing at it. "Varric said he'd double the payout if you kissed while dancing. Something about it being a better story."

"Bragi Maximillion Trevelyan." Ali drew herself up to her full height and used her most imposing voice. "If you try to cheat at a bet again, I will tell Papa that you were the one who put ink in the Magister's tea at Robis's wedding."

"Right." Now he really did look contrite. "Good point, and I apologize."

Vivienne huffed and crossed her arms. "If your silly little plan is over, my dear, we really should get back to this. She repositioned everyone, face concerned. "You still pull back from each other on the turns." Looking like she'd had a thought, she turned to Bragi. "Perhaps if we tied their belts together."

Groaning, Ali fought the urge to bury her face into Cullen's breastplate. "Maker, I should have stayed in the Fade."

 


	32. Chapter 32

Cullen smirked against Ali's collarbone as she gasped and moaned above him. He'd caught her after the morning's meeting - hustling her down the stairs and into the tiny hidden basement library. By the time she'd bolted the door, he was already across the room, half sitting on the desk. When he crooked a finger at her, she'd eagerly undone her laces and come to stand in front of him. Now, he worked his fingers slowly over her wet heat, amazed, as always, that he was the one she came to for this.

Not that he got nothing out of the deal. The day of their dancing lesson, she'd grabbed him when they'd gotten leave to go clean up for dinner. He was in her quarters, using her tub to wash the dust from his bare feet. She'd taken his shirt to clean it with magic, so he was all but naked when she stepped into the tub behind him. Grabbing his ass, she had leaned up to growl into his ear _I want to feel competent at something today_. Without another word, her hands had slid around to his front and he quickly found himself bracing against the stone wall, overwhelmed by an onslaught of sensations.

So here he was, returning the favor. Cullen adjusted his grip on her hip to keep her stable and reflected that as much as he'd enjoyed the time in the shower he actually preferred this. He liked the way she smelled like lightning when he buried his face in his neck, liked the feel of her hands in his hair, liked the way his name sounded in her mouth when she was close to coming and short of breath.

He especially liked the position they were in at the moment, since it gave him access to her very sensitive neck. He'd noticed how she shivered the first time he'd so much as breathed it, and he wondered what would happen if he kissed her there. But he had to resist the impulse - that would be over the line.

Still, there were other things he could do with his mouth. Cullen started to nip at her collarbone, working his way in from her shoulder. He scraped his teeth in time with the swipe of his thumb over her clit, and she melted into him. When he got to her neck, he gave it a long, slow lick, waited a second, then bit her right at at the base of her throat. That was enough to push her over the edge and she shuddered against his hand, collapsing fully on top of him.

He held her for a second, enjoying the feel of her weight in his arms. This had been his last chance to return the favor, and he'd been worried about finding the time for it. Ali was leaving later that day with a small crew to escort her brother to a waiting ship. Bragi had stayed for as long as possible, but any further delays risked blowing his cover.

Cullen knew Bragi was capable of of taking care of himself on the road, but Ali wouldn't hear of her baby brother leaving unprotected. There were still active rifts across Western Ferelden, and she'd never forgive herself if something happened that she could have prevented. Plus, if they found a rift and she got to close it in front of him - well, a little bit of showing off usually didn't hurt.

He finished cleaning his fingers and handed the handkerchief to her without comment. At his count, this was the seventh such favor exchange, and they no longer had to do discuss the process.

"You bit me." She still sounded a little bit breathless, but not upset at all.

"Was that okay?" He'd figured it wouldn't be a problem, but it seemed polite to ask.

"It was _very_ okay. I'll prove it sometime." She tucked the bit of fabric away and went back to straightening her clothes. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

He leaned back and tried to picture his schedule. "Writing a report for Rylan, I think. You?"

"Undercroft. Dagna is finally finished with the knife and I need to approve it."

Using his guise as a trader, Bragi would be leaving with a parcel of gifts for her family. Ali picked up baubles and trinkets wherever she went and hoarded them like a dragon. The best of her collection would be heading out to her siblings, but she'd ordered something special for her youngest brother. A fine silverite dagger, with a handle made of precious dragonbone, inlaid with runes for healing and safety.

"It's a nice thing you're doing. Being the youngest has to be hard in a family like yours."

"Mm. I just hope I get to meet him someday." Her voice wasn't overly emotional, but Cullen still felt a pang when he considered all the reasons she might not ever get to meet the littlest Trevelyan.

Pushing that thought away as he pushed up from the desk, he reassured her. "No worries Lady. Any teenage boy will be thrilled by a dagger to of such quality. I am sad for you that Bragi can't stay. I know you've enjoyed having him here."

"I have, but he has his own life to get back to." Ali wandered over to one of the shelves and started idly scanning the titles there. "I um, I did want to give you a heads up about something."

Something in the tone of her voice put him immediately on edge, and he leaned back against the desk, his mind alight with worries. She was going to go home to Ostwick, she was going to marry Sebastian, she was going to tell him never to touch her again. "What's wrong?"

She must have caught some of the tension in his voice because she left the shelf to come lean next to him. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. But you know how Leliana said I had to come right back from the port, with no delays or lollygagging?"

Relieved, Cullen relaxed a little. "Yes, she was very clear on the matter."

"Well..."

"Ah. You're going to delay and lollygag."

"Just a little." She started to chew on a fingernail but thought better of it and forced her hand to the side. "We're going to get an urgent missive from Fairbanks to one of the camps near the Graves, which will force me to divert for a few days."

"And this urgent missive will come from... where exactly?"

"Umm..." She scratched her nose, aiming for casual and failing. "From Varric."

Cullen had to laugh at the audacity of her plan. "So you're having him forge a letter so you can what, run away? Then what?"

"Oh, I am running _the fuck_ away. But we have weeks before the Winter Palace and I can't spend all of them cooped up here worried that the length of my eyelashes is going to offend the Duchess of Whereinthefuck. I just _can't_." She looked almost pitiful standing there with her arms crossed. "I'll swing through the Graves to kill some demons and I'll be back before the tailors arrive. I wasn't going to tell anyone else about the plan, but I don't want you to think something's wrong when I'm not back on time."

Abruptly, all the rest of Cullen's worries vanished. He would have worried if her plans had changed, but she didn't have to tell him. In fact, it was a big risk to take, because if he gave the game away to Leliana or Josephine, they probably wouldn't let her leave with her brother at all. But she had. She trusted him. "Wake me if you get back at night?"

Ali grinned and wrinkled her nose impertinently. "Always."

"Excellent." He pointed to the door. "To work, then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter Palace is giving me fits, so please accept this tiny chapter for now.


	33. Chapter 33

"And are you certain that you do not wish to bring in a hairdresser-?”

Ali gritted her teeth and repeated her chant of the last few weeks: _Don’t kill your Ambassador, don’t kill your Ambassador_. She longed for the days when she thought dancing lessons were the worst thing imaginable - Poor, naive Ali couldn't have imagined what else was in store. In her zeal to present the Inquisition and the Inquisitor in the best possible light Josie had subjected them all to classes on Orlesian genealogy, "cleansing" diets, and some very painful beauty regimes. Ali thought she knew about pain before, but having body hair ripped out with hot wax while you were grievously hungry was a new baseline for her.

She'd only pushed back on a few things. Josie and Vivienne wanted her to wear the latest in Orlesian fashion, but Ali refused, stating that she would love the dresses if she went as Lady Trevelyan, but the Inquisitor was above fashion. She’d thought Vivienne was going to slap her over that statement, but in the end they’d agreed that a military like uniform would be best for everyone to wear. Her hair was the next point of contention, and Josephine just wouldn't accept that Ali's tightly braided style was the only one that would work in a possible battle.

There was one final issue that Ali needed to address, but she was waiting until the last minute to bring it up. This felt a little cowardly, but she tried to tell herself it was a strategic decision. Really though, she was just afraid of what Josephine’s reaction was going to be and was trying to put it off as long as possible.

The ball was but a few hours away, and the entire party was housed in the guest quarters of one of Vivienne’s paramour's acquaintances. Ali had tried to keep their hosts straight, but couldn’t quite remember if they were related to the Empress through a great aunt or through an old family nanny. Either way, they were Orlesian through and through, so Ali and her party were almost certainly under surveillance. She’d wanted to have a last minute meeting with her advisors, but even that had spun Josie for a loop. Apparently it would have been an utter scandal for Cullen to be seen entering any of their rooms, and it was impossible for them to be seen going into his. Ali needed Cullen to be there for the meeting so they’d compromised by meeting the entire delegation in Vivienne’s suite, which had a small sitting area. The rest of their group was inside drinking tea, while the four of them huddled on the small balcony, protected by Cullen's strongest Silence.

They were supposed to be discussing strategy for the evening, but Josephine just would not be quiet about Alinora’s hair, having brought it up no less than four times in the last ten minutes. Even the unflappable Leliana was getting annoyed. She leaned over and whispered a few words in the Ambassadors’ ear, who promptly closed her mouth without finishing whatever banal thought she’d had about a hairdresser.

Ali nodded at Leliana gratefully. Clearing her throat she looked each of her advisors in the eye. “I’d like to take a moment to thank each of you for coming tonight. You’ve all taught me well, and we are well prepared to foil Corypheus one more time, and I couldn’t have done this if it wasn’t for you.” This was a slight exaggeration, since Cullen had contributed almost nothing to the preparations, and in fact was only attending the ball as backup muscle. Still, it didn’t hurt to spread it on a little thickly before dropping the hammer on Josie’s hopes for the night.

“There is one last thing we need to discuss. I know that tonight is an invaluable time to play The Game and cement our alliances. However, I want to make it perfectly clear that you are not permitted to gain any social ground by alluding to a diplomatic marriage with me or any member of the Inquisition."

Josie looked utterly scandalized. "Alinora! You do not understand! We must leverage every opportunity we can, and you are one of the most marriageable women in Thedas!"

Ali raised her left hand and let a burst of green energy erupt from the Anchor. "No, I am not. I am the Inquisitor, and the Herald of Andraste. Who would you have me marry? Some noble of a minor house who would bring me his debts and obligations? Even marriage to a King would tie the Inquisition to the business of one nation, and **I Will Not Have It.** "

Josie’s mouth closed with a snap, and Ali decided to press her advantage. “The same is true for all of you. We are the Inquisition, and we are above all of this. Let us make our alliances and trade our favors, but marriage is a bridge too far.”

Leliana looked amused, Josie was still scandalized, and Cullen looked like a man who was about to be ambushed. Sure enough, Josie recovered and launched another salvo. “My lady, that is fine for you, but what of us? I need to think of my house, and Cullen has the opportunity to make a good match for his standing.”

Ali raised an eyebrow, striving to be the noblest of all noble ladies. “Cullen’s standing has nothing to do with this. I am not forbidding marriage at all, just saying that it will not be a tool in the Inquisition's arsenal. Josephine, dearheart, if you find a man that will benefit House Montiliet, then by all means, marry him. And if Cullen meets a lovely girl tonight and falls madly in love with her, then I’ll escort her down the aisle myself. But that will be up to him, not us. Are we agreed?”

Josephine didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “As you command, Inquisitor. Although this does raise a small problem for Cullen.”

All three women turned to face their Commander, who now just looked resigned to his fate. “What is it now?”

Josie smiled, and looked positively predatory. “This is your first noble ball, correct? I don’t believe you quite understand the amount of attention that you will receive once it gets out that you aren’t interested in marriage offers. It will be assumed that you are open to… more intimate assignations. Turning them down risks causing offense, but we cannot simply leave you at home.”

Cullen stood stock still as a blush crept up his cheeks. “Can’t you just say that I’m otherwise engaged?”

Josie was obviously enjoying this, and Ali had had enough of it. “Cullen, that won’t work if we can’t produce the woman. How would you feel about being involved in a torrid love affair with Leliana for the evening?”

Leliana laughed, and spoke for the first time. “Not a bad idea Inquisitor, but it won’t work. I have a certain reputation in the Game, and it would do us no good to tie our handsome Commander to it. Why can’t he be in love with Alinora?”

The last question was addressed to Josephine, which meant that the two women utterly ignored the shocked looks that Cullen and Ali shot each other.

Josie considered the question, then shrugged. “That could suffice.”

Leliana shook her head, looking like a cat who’d found the cream. “No, this is brilliant. What is more romantic than true love that isn’t acknowledged? He loves her, and she doesn’t know of his attentions. No one knows her own feelings on the matter because she is the Inquisitor. It makes her human, and makes him a romantic figure out of a storybook.”

Josephine looked more and more convinced with every word and now she reached out to grab Cullen’s hand. “Can you do this? It would be the talk of the night!”

Cullen looked wildly at Ali, then back at Josephine. “If I’m understanding you, I need to spend the ball pretending that I’m in love with my best friend, but I don’t want anyone to know. In fact, I have to make sure everyone knows, but it also has to be plausible that she hasn’t figured it out yet. Is that about the sum of it?”

Josie nodded triumphantly. “That’s it exactly! Can you do it?”

He swallowed, then shrugged resignedly. “I hate politics. I’d better talk to Cassandra if I want to pull this off. Are we done?”

Ali rubbed a hand over her eyes, hating the situation they’d found themselves in. “Yes. Thank you all for you advice. And Josie? Send me the damned hairdresser. If I’m going to be the subject of amorous longing, I’d better look the part.

*****

Two candlemarks later, Cullen waited in the foyer for the rest of the party to arrive. He'd dressed quickly enough, and used the extra time to secret as many weapons as possible around his person. He knew Solas was sneaking in arms and armor in his guise as a servant, but if things went tits-up, Cullen wanted to have at least a dagger for every member of the party. Leliana had assured him that tonight would only be about diplomacy, but he wasn’t sanguine enough about the possibility to discount the possibility that things would end bloody.

Cassandra had helped him get ready, while also filling his head with a long string of romantic tropes that he could use to sell the idea that his heart was taken by the Inquisitor. He only hoped that he could play The Game well enough to avoid shaming her or the Inquisition. It wasn’t as though he was loathe to deceive anyone, but having to consider what it would be like to be in love with Alinora was touching on some areas of his heart that he spent a great deal of energy trying to avoid.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned just in time to see the woman herself step through the door, and for a moment, he forgot about his nervousness at the deception that lay before him.

She was wearing the same type of uniform that he was, but he never could have imagined that she would look this good in it. He was accustomed to her in battered bits of mismatched armor, or casual homespun dresses. He'd thought her pretty from the first, and had recently realized that she was also sexy. Still, he always carried the image of her as an unkempt, slightly plump Circle mage with makeup smeared around her eyes.

That was nothing like the woman who stood in front of him now. The tunic was cut close to her curves, but her feminine charms were counterbalanced by the military epaulets at her shoulders. Her normal smear of kohl was gone from her eyes, replaced by creamy makeup that brought out her features without softening them. Most amazing of all was her hair. Instead of the normal two braids wrapped haphazardly around her forehead, she had a multitude of tiny braids, shot through with silver that had somehow been built into a crown atop her head. With a shock, Cullen realized that she was almost of a height with him, and he glanced down to see that her high black boots had several more inches of heel than she normally wore.

She looked like a queen, like a long lost warrior of legend, like the type of woman who could command the attention of all the nations of Thedas.  Suddenly, the evening ahead seemed easier. Of course he would be in love with a woman like this, and of course she wouldn’t return his attentions. With a sigh, Cullen released his worries and bowed low.

“My lady. You're very tall tonight.”

She pouted and relaxed her noble bearing, quite ruining the effect she’d had a moment ago.  “Not your lady Cullen.” Stepping up, she straightened the seam on his shoulders, picking away a tiny fleck of lint. "This color suits you. You look very handsome."

The unexpected compliment took him by surprise and he stammered out a response. "Um... thank you. Uh... your hair is very intricate..."

Ali looked at him from under her eyelashes. "Isn't it just. They sewed the braids into place, so I may need you to free me from bondage later."

He had a sudden flash of what she might look like _not_ freed from bondage - hands tied behind her back, naked and writing on top of him while her unbound hair cascaded down to brush his....

 _Not the time. Get yourself together._ Swallowing heavily, he stepped to the side, allowing her space to stand next to him as they waited for the rest of their party. There was one more thing that he’d needed to discuss with her since the conversation on the balcony, and this might be his only chance to do it.

“Ali, before tonight starts in earnest, I did want to talk about something with you.” His mouth was suddenly dry, and he offered up a quick prayer that he could explain himself without her misunderstanding. “I don’t know how to ask you this, but we’ve never talked about… I mean, did you stop the marriages because… you know that we aren’t…” Realizing that he couldn’t get any explanation out, he groaned and banged his head backwards against the wall, risking a sideways glance at the woman beside him.

“Well said Commander.” Her face stayed neutral, but her voice was laced with amusement. “To answer what I think you're asking - I meant what I said. If you decide to get married, I’ll support you through everything, even if her name is Ruth. As for the rest of it, well…”

Like always, she didn’t reach out to hold his hand, just laced one finger through his. “This… rummaging that we do... we're just passing the time, right? Taking care of each other until we get through this? I plan to win this war, and who knows what will happen after that?”

Cullen cleared his throat, hating himself for asking this next question. “Are you, um, rummaging with anyone else currently?”

A flash of hurt showed on her face, but she didn’t let it linger. “I would have told you if I was. Are you?”

Now he understood the hurt, since he didn’t like even the implication that he had played anyone false. “No, of course not. So that’s okay then? If either of us falls in love with anyone else, we tell each other first of all?”

“Deal.” She lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, then gasped in horror at the lipstick mark it left. She dug for a handkerchief to wipe it off, but he pulled it out of her grip.

“Leave it lady. It will help me sell my bit later on.”

The remainder of the upcoming evening made her eyes roll, but she didn’t protest. She was just opening her mouth to say something when The Iron Bull’s voice bellowed from behind them.

“Who’s ready to PARTY?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - They party. 
> 
> Fun fact about hair - Roman women did in fact sew their hairstyles into place, and you needed someone else's help to get them down later.


	34. Chapter 34

Cullen knew he was handsome. It's not that he was vain, but he had eyes and a mirror, and knew that his face was a handsome one.  When he was a child, his mother would cup his cheeks in her hands and mutter about what a heartbreaker he would be, just like his father. In Templar training, he tried to ignore the twittering sounds of girls watching him train, and he was sparing with his smiles - not wanting to lead anyone on. He learned to avoid assignations with his fellow recruits - they always ended with jealousy on one side or the other.

After Kinloch, he stopped caring what anyone thought of him, gave up entirely on any sort of personal attention beyond the basics of bathing. On the ship to Kirkwall, he clipped off his overgrown curls and beard and saw his old familiar face staring back at him from the tiny glass - saw that whatever else had happened, he still had his father's jawline and his mother's eyes. He kept himself well-groomed after that - not because of personal pride, but out of a fear that someone would see him unkempt and look further, see the broken and shattered parts of him that he wanted to keep hidden.

As he grew older, he learned that women would watch him on the street, and the bolder ones would come right up to him with a clear offer in their eyes. He learned not to look at them directly, to hide behind a clenched jaw and heavy armor. When he felt the need for companionship, he didn't go to his fellow Templars, since the problems of jealousy and commitment only grew as he reached full adulthood.

It was lucky he didn't - Meredith once commented on how fine he looked, one sunny morning in her office. Cullen knew that a young Templar recruit had just been executed for consorting with blood mages, but he also knew that same recruit had been spotted leaving the Knight-Commander's quarters early one morning. It didn't take much to connect those dots, so when Meredith said _What a shame you don't like women_ , Cullen felt like he'd dodged an arrow. Still, he didn't sleep for the next few nights, sitting awake, staring at the door; sure at any moment he would hear her key turning in the lock, being forced to choose between pleasing the Knight-Commander or execution. Four days later, he heard a rumor that a beautiful young recruit had been requested for personal service, and he breathed a little easier.

He couldn't go to brothels like The Blooming Rose - the whores there were too false for him, too evocative of the demon that haunted his dreams. No, when he needed time with a woman, he would go to one of the houses in Hightown occupied by rich, independent ladies; unencumbered by troublesome husbands. Armed with a pocketful of gold, he could eat dinner with them, chat about current events and their latest artistic endeavors, and then retreat to the bedroom for a perfectly enjoyable romp. Neither was ever under any delusions about what was occurring, but he found it more tenable than any of the other alternatives. They often commented on his face, said they were glad to have a handsome man for once. None of them ever said he was kind, or gentle, or brave.

Leliana was the first person in a long time to mention his face in a way untouched by ulterior motives. One of his first days in Haven, he'd gotten hopelessly lost and missed their meeting. When he finally showed up, she shook her head and said _It's a good thing you're handsome_ , but he heard the joke there and wasn't offended. As the months wore on and they'd moved to Skyhold, he'd gotten used to the comments about his hair, and it didn't bother him that Vivienne often walked by the training yard when he was drilling recruits shirtless. Ali brought it up all the time, but it was never in a way to mock him, or make him uncomfortable. When she called him handsome, he believed her.

Sadly, there was a big difference between his friends at Skyhold and being in the belly of the beast itself.

*****

The best thing Cullen could say about the ball was that it could have been worse. Their official presentation to the court went just as planned, and all seven of them managed to hit their marks and how appropriately enough to please the watching vultures. As soon as it was done, he made a beeline for his assigned station, taking residence behind a small table with a wall firmly at his back.

Josephine had scattered them around the rooms with the severity of a general on the field of battle. From his vantage point, he had views of all the entrances, and could reach Leliana quickly in the event of an emergency. Varric, Cassandra and Dorian were further out, but they were under Ali's protection and he didn't worry himself unduly.

As for his great love charade - well, so far it hadn't blown up in his regrettably handsome face. As soon as he'd gotten to his table, the women had begun to trickle in. At first, it was only the most daring ones who brushed by him, tittering over their fans and making eyes at him from under their masks. It didn't take long for word to spread about him, and they were soon joined by a parade of younger sisters and older mothers, all wanting to catch sight of the Inquisition's notoriously shy Commander.

Josephine had been very clear that afternoon that he had to keep the deceit going at all times - one slip and the whole Game would know of it. He greeted each woman with a courtly bow, but kept his eyes on Alinora as she made her way around the room. Even without this ruse, he would have been watching her for signs of trouble, so this part was easy. Cassandra had drilled him on the right expression - eyebrows raised just a fraction, don't look straight at her, drop your gaze if she looks your way.

Eventually, women started stopping to exchange greetings with him, and that brought the men over. Cullen sighed with relief that he wasn't the center of attention, but he soon found himself being deftly interrogated by a cunning looking old dowager who wasn't pleased to discover that he was just the son of a common Fereldan farmer, with no titles or property to speak of - not to mention the wildfire news that he wasn't on the marriage market.

"Perhaps you have a noble uncle of some sort? And you will marry when this dreadful war is over?" The dowager had a sort of desperate quality in her voice as she played her last card.

"Alas, my lady, I fear I am just a common soldier, serving at the pleasure of the Inquisition. I shall take no wife while that is so." Cullen delivered his now standard line as he watched Ali charm an older gentleman across the hall. She was listening intently, but soon started nodding. Raising her hand, she fluttered her fingers and a flurry of golden bubbles cascaded up before disappearing a few feet above her head.

"Impressive magic."

The dowager had slunk off in defeat, pulling an enamored daughter behind her. An overly perfumed young man had taken her place and noticed Cullen's apparent obsession with Ali.

"Isn't it though? It is a very difficult spell." Cullen tried, (as Cassandra had instructed) to give his voice a tinge of pride. He wasn't sure if he'd managed it - this was not a difficult spell, and was in fact the one Ali used to distract crying babies and drunken fighters. "She is a most accomplished woman."

And so it went for the next hour - a combination of disappointed would be brides and a long line of courtiers hoping to learn more about the Inquisitor. Cullen answered them with the same lines about his background, and tried to turn every statement about how wonderful the Inquisition and the Inquisitor were.

Sometime later, he realized that the mood was changing around him. He spotted Alinora ducking out of the ballroom, and thought about trying to follow her. A moment later, he realized he had a scrap of paper clutched in his hand - a paper that could only have come from Cole. _Thank you for helping_ , Cullen thought very deliberately as he read the brief lines Ali had scribbled about heading out to the library.

Glad she was safe; he let a real smile touch his lips. Immediately, the three people closest to him started prying into the contents of the note. He put them off with a stammer and a blush, but instead of trying even harder, all three of them looked suspiciously supportive and went back to the conversation they were having about... famous wartime romances?

It seemed the ruse had finally taken hold, and his faux infatuation with the Inquisitor was becoming common knowledge. The most persistent of his suitors thus far was a young woman with a very deep decolletage who had been looping by the table every few minutes, making sure to bend Cullen’s way each time. The next time she swooped around, she found herself blocked by the small gaggle of women all discussing - in very loud voices - all known instances of common born men rising to the noble ranks to win the heart of a fair lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a weird chapter and I'm sorry. The Winter Palace will go on for awhile, and I don't want to cut it in the middle of the good bits...


	35. Chapter 35

Ali was already tired of the Winter Palace, and she still had no idea what the assassin's plan was for tonight. They'd barely made a dent in the library when the bell started ringing and she and her friends had to rush for the doors, pausing only long enough to whip off their outer layer of armor and toss their weapons to a waiting Solas. Bless the elf for agreeing to pose as a servant for tonight – without him and Sera to smuggle in their things, they would have been all but unarmed.

As she dashed towards the ballroom, a dark-haired woman in a red dress stepped in front of her, giving a wide curtsey that effectively blocked her way. "Well well, what have we here? Leader of the new Inquisition, Fabled Heard of the Fade, delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of the blessed Andraste herself.”

Ali bowed back, motioning her friends to go inside without her. This must be the empress’s arcane advisor, the one Leliana had warned her about.

“What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder. Do even you know?” The sorceress cocked her head to the side with a knowing look.

Ali wasn’t in the mood to play ‘best mage’ with some upstart apostate, so her usual politeness was tinged with impertinence. “We may never know. The intrigues and all that...”

*****

She made it into the ballroom just before the second bell, shocked to see the looks of approval on the noble’s faces. Apparently fashionably late was really a daring thing in Orlais? She dropped off some secrets for Leliana and scanned the room for the rest of her people. Dorian was on the dance floor, charming the pants off a fur laden old woman. Sera seemed to be having a grand time playing humble servant- Ali wondered idly how many nobles would find slugs in their pockets later instead of gold. Cassandra was sulking in the corner, Josie was still with her sister and Cullen was…

Andraste's bits! Cullen was surrounded by a group of people, mostly young men, and he actually seemed to be... Conversing. Willingly. At a party. From this angle she could only see a sliver of his face, but he was... smiling?

One of the men noticed her looking and nudged the Commander. When he turned around, his face went studiously blank, and he gave her a tight nod. He tried to turn back to his new companions, but they weren't having it. One of them clapped him hard on his back, while another pressed two glasses of fizzy wine into his hands. He shook his head at that, but let them push him away in her direction.

He handed her one of the glasses with a slight bow, murmuring in his very softest voice, "Don't drink this, it’s terrible." Straightening, he moved to a more audible voice." I hope you are enjoying the ball, my lady."

She couldn't offer a retort to that, not with so many ears around, but this wasn't her first party. She clinked her glass to his and took a tiny sip, knowing good manners would force him to do the same. The wine was truly terrible, tasting both of rotten lemons and somehow, the feeling of having left a candle burning when you left the house. Still, it was worth it for the way his nostrils flared when he had to drink along.

"I am having a wonderful time Commander, but if you have a moment, there is a bit of business I must discuss with you." She led the way out onto one of the balconies - semi-private, but still in full view of the men inside who were trying not to openly gawk at them. Knowing that some of them must be able to read lips, she went to the railing and looked over. When he took a place at her side, she whispered, "Silence."

It took him a moment to summon the necessary energy, but soon enough the weakest version of a Templar's Silence surrounded them in a bubble of privacy. At this strength, it shouldn't be detectable by anyone not inside it, and she hoped none of the mages inside would notice. It pulled at her mana, and made her teeth itch terribly, but it was worth it to have a few moments to speak plainly.

"What the fuck is in that wine?"

"Sera said they make it out of iguana testicles. I don't know if she was joking. How are things going?"

Ali almost shrugged, but caught the gesture just in time. They had to stay in their roles or else all was lost. "Dunno yet. Something is up, and all signs point to the servants’ quarters. I'm heading there next. How are things here?"

"Going surprisingly well, actually." Cullen smirked a little."Everyone seems to believe my lovelorn act, and I have a group of new friends who all want to give me advice. I've been told that I should serenade you, kill you a dragon, or possibly find a way to trick you into sleeping in my quarters."

"Hold on." Ali shot him a sidelong look. "Aren't those all things I've done already?"

"The thought had occurred to me but I don't have the heart to tell them that. The one in the feather mask is trying to work up the nerve to propose to his lady tonight. I don't want to discourage him from pursuing romance."

"You're a very sweet man sometimes."

"Don't spread it around, woman. I have a reputation to uphold. Can I do anything for you?"

"No. I just needed a moment of peace, and thought you might too."

Shielding the motion with his body, Cullen slid one hand to the side, over the edge of the balcony and carefully linked his littlest finger around hers. "You always bring me peace."

Ali closed her eyes and bit her lip, still facing out over the grounds."Very sweet, as I said. Can you think of a cover story for why we're out here?"

"Umm...You overheard reports of a wet monsoon season to the west, and want Captain Rylan to be alert to the possibility of flooding?"

"That'll work. Too boring to question. Drop the Silence. I should get back in there."

The Silence fell from them abruptly, and Cullen offered his arm to escort her inside. "My lady, I uh... don't suppose you would favor me with a dance tonight?"

She knew he was only asking for appearance's sake, but really, he should know better than to bait her with that phrase then give her such an opening. "Of course Commander, I would be honored. I've heard you dance beautifully."

Behind him, the group of men heard her accept and started whispering frantically to each other. Cullen looked murderous behind his mask, and she had no doubt she would pay for this later - but that was later, and this was funny now. He got his face under control and kissed her hand politely. "Until later then, my lady."

Ali looked around again for some fellows to take to the servants’ quarters. Before she could approach anyone, an imperious voice beckoned her. It was the Dowager, ready at last to speak to the Inquisitor.

*****

Cullen watched Ali whirl gracefully on the dance floor, and he wasn't the only one. All along the mezzanine, nobles stopped to listen to the two women, every word audible to the staring crowds. They were speaking in something almost like a code, and he felt a surge of pride for Josephine and Leliana. Their tutelage had gotten the Inquisitor here, gotten a minor Marcher noble access to the highest ranks of power and let her hold her own.

"What have we here?"

The voice beside him triggered an itch in the back of his mind, and he glanced to the side to see who'd joined him. Recognition came a moment later, in the form of a wavy memory through a cage of air - the Lady Cousland and sweet old Wynne kneeling before him, behind them a blonde elf and a woman... Cullen choked on the memory.

"You..."

The sorceress smiled at him, a slow cruel smirk. "Little Templar, let loose from his cage."

His first instinct was to lash out, Smite her with everything he had and beat her until his hands broke. But that was the reaction of a boy of nineteen, tortured and broken. He was different now, a man grown with all his pieces put back together, however shabbily. With effort, he unclenched his hands and gave a tidy bow. "My lady Morrigan. It is a pleasure to see you again."

"And what might a Templar be doing in these royal halls, I wonder?" Morrigan turned and looked out at the dance floor, drinking in the sight of Alinora doing a very fair waltz." Ah, the infamous Commander of the Inquisition. Would that I could be spared the lovesick droolings of Templar men and their heroic women."

Cullen was absurdly chuffed that he'd managed to fool even the infamous Morrigan with his act tonight, but he also felt he should clarify matters, lest she cause trouble. "I am not a Templar anymore. I left the Order some time ago."

She gave him a very slow, uncomfortable look from head to toe. "Shall I be reassured by this? Tis not the Order that threatened me and mine, once upon a time."

He glanced to the side, measuring the distance of the crowd. "That was a long time ago, and I said a great many unforgivable things. I do regret them, and I left the Order in my quest to be... better. I would not say those things today."

That seemed to satisfy her, at least for the moment, but she didn't deign to give him a response. Without another word, she swept away, crowds parting in the wake of her swaying hips.

Another note appeared in Cullen's hand, courtesy of Cole. He steeled himself for an admonishment before unrolling the scrap of paper.

_Ignore the Bitch. -L._

*****

At the sight of yet another murdered servant, Ali was tempted to just toss a bomb into the palace and let the Maker sort out the lot. She fought back the temptation to lay bloody waste to the whole nest of snakes - she had to stay calm, stay logical, and stay better than those she fought against.

A cold hand came to rest on the back of her neck - Dorian's, cooled with magic, aimed to bring her back to herself. "Deep breaths lovely."

Just as they had done all night, Varric closed the dead girls eyes, and Cassandra said a quick prayer over her corpse, guiding her path to the Maker's side. Dorian and Ali stood as witnesses to the ritual, solemn and silent. Just as they finished, the Anchor in her hand sprung to life, the bright sparks of green making their shadows jump and dance amidst the dark scaffolding of the palace.

"Someone's opened a rift nearby." She readjusted her grip on her staff and wished she'd taken the time to change into armor. "The assassins are making their move. Let's go save an empress."

*****

Cullen's hands were sweating. He was used to Ali being in danger, used to watching her ride out to fight the bad things out in the world where he couldn't protect her. But never before, in all their friendship, did he have to actually stand back and watch as she did it, not twenty feet away from him.

Just a minute ago, she'd been standing with them in a tight huddle, discussing the ramifications of Florianne's treachery. Cullen found himself advocating for Duke Gaspard - not out of any strong feelings for the man, but out of a vested interest in having as many troops as possible to bring to bear in upcoming fights. He'd known she would reject his idea, but his job was to offer her options, even if he knew she wouldn't take them.

So yes, he'd known she would save the empress, but he hadn't for one second imagined she would do it by confronting the traitor in full view of the entire court. As he watched her slowly cross the floor, he felt like the biggest fool in Thedas for not realizing she would take the route that protected the most innocent lives, no matter the risk to herself.

 _She's not even wearing armor!_ The fool girl was out there accusing one of the most powerful women in Orlais with nothing more than a thick layer of velvet to protect her. Cullen edged around the railing, creeping closer to the stairs and working one of his sleeve daggers loose. At the first sign of trouble, he planned to knock down the guard at the top of the stairs and hop over the balcony halfway down. From there, he could drop to the floor without breaking anything and be at the Inquisitor's side no more than three seconds later.

But three seconds would be plenty of time for an assassin to strike. As he went to work on the next dagger, Cullen's eyes were fixed on the back of Ali's neck. Her creamy, graceful, utterly unprotected neck; and all he think of was what a perfect target it would make. He knew people were watching him for his reaction to her, heard their whispers that his burning eyes were proof of his devotion. No matter - he knew it wasn't love lighting his eyes.

It was fear.

*****

Ali couldn't believe she didn't have to fight the duchess, and was left feeling strangely unfulfilled. It was unheard of, really, for one of her missions to end without her having to kill something bigger or stronger than her. Still, there was a certain satisfaction in watching the Duchess be led away in shackles - something about the mighty having fallen. There was nothing satisfying in telling Empress Celene about the depths of betrayal her own people had sunk to. It was especially hard to tell her about Briala - the elf outright refused to work towards a reconciliation.

She'd hoped to escape the ball soon after that, but the Empress had other ideas. As soon as Gaspard and Briala had been swept away by the guard, Celene had looked the Inquisitor up and down slowly, taking in the bloodstains on her sleeve, the rip in the shoulder, and the dirt smeared on her cheek.

"You must accept our gift of a dress. We insist." She lifted one finger, and as if by magic, several of her ladies appeared and surrounded Ali, forcing her to follow Celene as she swept towards into royal quarters.

Quick as lighting, an elven servant began stripping Ali's uniform off, while another came over with a few damp cloths to scrub off the dirt, wiping her down roughly with a towel after. It seemed the point of this particular toilette was speed, not comfort, so she didn't protest the small hurts they caused.

Celene and the ladies ignored the flurry happening behind them, instead focusing on the contents of the empress's dressing room. They all seemed to agree on the best dress for Ali - a ruffled purple dress, complete with matching hoop skirt and collar. Ali hated ruffles, but decided not to comment on their choice, instead offering a very polite "Thank you for your generosity, your Imperial Highness."

The empress did not respond, just turned to the mirror and began adjusting her own mask. One of the noble ladies came over and displaced a servant. She examined Ali's braids for a moment before pursing her lips. "Some of this needs to be resewn." Using a wicked looking hook, she started to work sections of hair back into their proper place."You will have many suitors tonight, once we're through with you."

"Thank you, but..." Ali wasn't sure if she should contradict the lady, so she just trailed off uncertainly.

Celene gestured loftily from her perch at the mirror."We have heard you do not plan to marry. A pity, for we have many marriageable cousins. Arrangements could have been made."

Ali tried to to flinch as one of the servants pulled too hard on a lock of hair. "If you say that three times, my mother will appear out of your mirror."

_...oh no... did I just say..._

Everyone in the room froze, and Ali realized her mistake a moment too late. Despite the more private surroundings and more intimate setting, she was still playing The Game, and she might have just forfeited everything with a stupid joke about her family. _No one_ , no matter their rank or title, should ever dare to speak so in front of the Empress.

"Leave us. We wish to speak to the Inquisitor alone." Celene's voice was imperious, and all her ladies scuttled to do her bidding. Ali was intensely aware of her own nakedness, and she kept her eyes firmly on the floor in front of her. When the door clicked shut behind the last of the ladies, Celene's feet appeared in Ali's field of view.

"Why did you choose to save us tonight? You could have placed a puppet on our throne, bent it to your will."

Ali kept her eyes firmly on the empress's (admittedly lovely) shoes, trying not to balk under her scrutiny." The Inquisition is trying to avert the end of the world. I am not in the business of king-making. The world is safer if I stay out of politics."

"You are witty. No one told me you are witty."

Ali risked a glance up, surprised at the empress's use of a singular pronoun. "Your Imperial Majesty?"

Delicately, Celene picked up a fallen towel as if she wasn't quite sure how to hold it and handed it to Ali with a vague glance at her exposed breasts. "You played The Game very well tonight. Perhaps we might set it aside for the moment?" She moved to the window, settling herself grandly on the bench before patting the remaining space.

Hastily, Ali wrapped herself in the towel and prayed that she wasn't going to have to sex up the empress tonight. "Of course. Is there another matter I can assist you with?"

With a weary sigh, Celene unclipped her mask and drew it down, revealing a lovely face with just the first signs of aging showing around her eyes. "This has been a very draining evening, Inquisitor, and we must go back out there and show no weakness. I thought we might both benefit from a restful moment."

"Oh. What a lovely idea." Ali realized with something like shame that at no point this evening had she considered that the Empress was a living, breathing person under all her royalty. She and her advisors had discussed their decision like it was a chess game, and even the discovery of Briala and Gaspard's betrayal seemed like just another move they could exploit. Hoping she wasn't overstepping, Ali asked tentatively, "Are you quite all right?"

The empress gave the ghost of a smile, tilting her head back against the glass. "Yes. It is never an easy thing, to have to face down one you love. It both cements the love you had, and the reasons it ended. But regret brings me nothing, so I will not let it linger."

"You are very wise, Empress." Ali was impressed, and didn't see any reason not to say so.

"And you, my dear? Are you quite well after your... exertions?"

Ali almost laughed at the question, but bit it back in the last second. "I am, thank you. I was expecting to have to fight the Duchess, so actually, this is quite a bit less exertion than I was expecting. In fact, I feel a little badly about it. If I'd know there wouldn't be any fisticuffs, I would have left the Commander at Skyhold."

Celene gave her a sidelong look and a tiny smirk appeared on her perfect lips. "If you had done that, I would not have gotten to enjoy his performance all night. Unrequited love is a classic."

Her mouth dropped open, and she squished her eyes closed. "You know he's faking? Dammit! I thought it would work!"

Humming a laugh, the empress reassured her. "You play The Game very well, but you must understand that I see everything that happens in my ballroom. I saw him making cow-eyes at you during your dance with Florienne, and thought them true. But when you walked in front of the whole court he looked at you with a lion's eyes, and that true emotion proved the other false."

Ali thought she could sit here forever, just listening to the empress dripping pretty words in her musical accent. "I have always been blessed in my friends."

"You are lucky. I have been not been so blessed." To Ali's amazement, Celene averted her eyes, seeming almost nervous."Is it possible that perhaps we might..."

To be offered friendship from the Empress of Orlais herself seemed like an auspicious opportunity, but one that would come with all sorts of hidden pitfalls. Ali considered her response for a moment before realizing the actual offer that she should put on the table. "I do not think the Inquisitor and the Empress can be friends. Colleagues and allies, yes, but not friends. On the other hand, I think Alinora and Celene are becoming fast friends."

It took Celene a second to process it, but when she did, her first real expression of the night appeared on her face, and it was one of surprise and pleasure. "Truly?"

"Truly." Ali smiled back at her. "Once the war is over, come to Skyhold. We'll have a right proper girl's night - nothing but wine and gossip."

Celene looked delighted and clapped her hands together."Oh, I am so pleased you came tonight. But oh, I have kept you here in a towel! We must get you ready to go back out there." The empress looked across the room at the hoop skirted, ruffled monstrosity of a dress and pressed her lips together in thought. "Did you know, I have already begun to order my dresses for the upcoming season, although I have not debuted the new style? Perhaps, as a friend, you would like to debut it for me... Alinora."

Ali smiled at the Empress's use of her given name. "Of course.... Celene."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we still aren't done with the Winter Palace! Sorry all. Next time, they will dance. Promise. 
> 
> And Kamille, I love your comments so much I put in the part about the bomb just for you. Because you are totally right about it, as always.


	36. Chapter 36

The assassins were captured, the empress was safe, but Cullen still couldn't relax. He stared at the door they'd whisked Ali through, trying to get her back into the ballroom by force of will. It wasn't working, but he still tried, mindlessly working his way through the tray of tiny cakes he had brought to their conference.

The three advisors had retreated to a table in the corner of the ballroom to compare notes from the ball so far. Surprisingly, Cullen had something to offer - his group of young men had discussed quite a bit of military gossip, and he had several leads on possible choke points for problematic nobles.

He reached out for another cake but found only hard porcelain. Ignoring Josie's huffed "honestly Commander", he turned his attention away from the door to hail a servant. The cakes were originally for Ali - she probably hadn't eaten all night, and he wanted to make sure there was something tasty waiting for her when she came back. In the end, Cullen had to chase all the way out to the Hall of Heroes to find some food for their own hero. When he got back to the table, the two women had been joined by Cassandra, and they were speaking over each other in hushed whispers, seemingly debating the merits of Nevarran embroidery.

He looked towards the door he thought Ali would come back from but there was no sign of her. "What's all this about embroidery then? Inquisition branching out into domestics?"

Leliana and Josie worked wide eyed at him then each other, dissolving into giggles. They pointed to a spot over his shoulder and he turned towards the dais. The empress was back, he noticed, and the woman beside him...

_Oh Maker, take me now._

Cullen didn't know anything about fashion, didn't understand why the women were whispering about things like 'boning' or 'drape'. All he knew is that Alinora, his Ali, the Inquisitor and the Maker-blessed Herald of Andraste was standing at the top of the room, and she looked...

Over the past few months, Cullen had gotten to know the shape of her body intimately. Though he'd never seen her naked, he knew the span of her waist under his hands, knew the curve of her hip as it sloped down to meet her thighs. He knew other things too - how she shivered when he nuzzled her collarbone, how a careful tug on her braids could elicit a long, slow moan.

But now, tonight, he watched her wave and smile next to the empress and thought that maybe he didn't know anything about her at all. Her hair was unbound from its previous plaits and hung in long, ropey curls, still shot through with silver thread, drifting behind her back to brush her waist. Instead of the heavy mask that had hidden her face earlier, she now wore one of lace, her eyes impossibly big behind it, framed by her high cheekbones and perfectly pink mouth. Her dress was a darker bronze, the color of the sword she'd rejected once upon a time.

He wasn't actually sure if it was a dress - surely dresses involved more fabric than this? Whatever it was, it left her shoulders and neck bare, drawing his eye down to where - _Oh fuck._ Ali had never been skinny, had always been made up of curves, full and soft. She never dressed to highlight her breasts, but they were always there nonetheless. Cullen had caught the occasional glimpse of them, and had imagined them plenty of times, full and bouncing; above him, below him, wrapped around his cock. But now he could see them, and they were better than he'd dreamed because they were _real_. The top of her dress seemed to frame them with embroidered designs, supporting and lifting and just inviting him to think _Maker what I would do to those fucking tits._

He forced his eyes past her breasts and they swept down, past her ribcage to her clenched waist, drawn tight to emphasize the full span of her hips, where heavy fabric fell in a cascade to the floor. It swirled around her legs as she began to work her way through the crowd, smiling and laying her courtesies to all the nobles who suddenly sought her favor.

Cassandra elbowed him sharply and whispered in an aside. "Don't oversell it, Commander."

He realized he was staring and snapped his mouth shut. As he shifted his weight, he was acutely aware of the tightness of his trousers and thanked the Maker that the table hid the rest of his reaction from his friends. He tried to get himself under control, tried to find something to ground him and lessen his reaction. Out of habit, he looked at her left hand, checking on the omnipresent Anchor that marked her for duty. She was wearing sleeves, of a sort, long belled bits of frippery that were tied to her biceps, but there was no flickering of green from under them.

As she rounded the corner, he saw that she wore a fingerless leather glove to hide the glow. He used that as a focus, concentrating on the gloves he had like that, how he would strap them on before practicing with a bow, the long pull back, followed by a hiss and thud as the arrow released.

That helped, a little, and by the time Ali joined  their little group, he felt like his temperature had returned to normal. She looked just as lovely up close, although there was a faint trace of nervousness in her eyes that made him realize how uncomfortable she'd been with the lascivious looks she'd garnered tonight. It was like a dose of cold water on his libido - this was his best friend, and here she was having to make another sacrifice to the Inquisition. He stepped to the side to make space for her at the table, and slid the plate of cakes her way. Surprised, she gave him a quick smile before working her way into the treats as quickly as her manners would allow.

Leliana smiled back and stepped into Cullen, helping him shield the Herald from the not-so-casual passersby. "Trust Celene to put you in something to give everyone fits. You look just shy of _tawdry_."

Cullen thought Ali looked exactly the right amount of tawdry, but he certainly wasn't going to tell anyone that. Ali scowled at her spymaster. "Well, when the Empress of Orlais asks _you_ to debut the new summer fashions, then you can tell her that it's too much skin. I'm not that brave." Defiantly, she picked up one of the mushroom cakes and popped it whole into her mouth.

Josephine gripped the table like it was a lifeline. "Did you say... debuting the new fashions? Oh, do you know what this means?"

Mouth full, all Ali could do was nod, but Josie didn't really give her a chance to speak.  "This is extraordinary! To think that she would set such a tone, and tonight of all nights! How did you convince her to do this?"

This time she waited, and Ali tried to clear her mouth to talk. Holding a hand over her face, she got out, "W're fwnds."

"You're friends? Already?" This time it was Leilana who couldn't constrain herself. "You must tell me what she said!"

Ali started to speak, then seemed to reconsider. Taking a deep breath, she faced the two advisors. "Leliana, Josephine, I promise I will tell you everything tomorrow. You can have me all afternoon, and we will examine every single nuance of every single word spoken to me tonight. But I still have a dozen or so people I need to charm, my feet are killing me, and... I would really appreciate it if you could triage the questions you need answered right now, okay?" Rant over, Ali popped another cake in her mouth.

Across the table, Varric slowly raised his hand. "Junebug, I have a question. How is your dress staying up?"

*****

It took Ali only five more minutes to answer her friends' questions, and polish off the rest of the food. She had to remember to thank Cullen for that - even with the tightness of this corset, she'd been feeling almost faint with hunger.

After questions, she'd released everybody for the night - Dorian had gone to find Bull in the garden, Varric had heard about a gaming room, but her advisors had all stayed behind. She knew Leliana and Josephine would be out all night gallivanting with old friends, but Cullen had only stayed behind to make sure she was safe. Something had spooked him earlier, she was sure of it.

Ali kept moving around the room, trying to scan for likely looking nobles she hadn't spoken to yet. Luckily, the crowd was beginning to thin as some people snuck out to the gardens for more private rendezvous. Still there were plenty of men left to leer at her, and plenty of women left to make snide remarks under their breath when they thought she couldn't hear. Maker, she was glad this wasn't her world, that tomorrow she would go back to her normal life. Well, not that her life was normal, exactly, but demons and dragons were preferable to the masks and carelessness that surrounded her now.

Out on the balcony, she could see Cullen and Cassandra having some kind of argument. It looked like she was insisting on something, while he was trying to convince her otherwise. Finally, she drew herself up and jabbed him in the sternum, ordering something through clenched teeth. He slumped backwards and nodded, and Ali could imagine him muttering "Maker's breath."

He came back through the door and looked around grumpily. When he saw her, he all but stomped over to her. "Cassandra has informed me that since I asked you to dance, and you said yes, we must now do so. Or else."

Ali bit back a laugh. "Or else what?"

"Honestly, I was afraid to ask." Crooking his elbow, Cullen offered her his arm and asked with all sincerity, "Dance with me?"

Ali couldn't help it- her heart skipped a beat at that. As they walked down the stairs to the dance floor, she noticed a trio of Cullen's friends from earlier watching them. They were excited, and not exactly sober as they pointed at the pair and jabbered to each other. "It seems we have an audience."

Cullen looked up to where they were trying to 'subtly' encourage him. "They're good lads. Didn't even comment on your costume change."

"Well, neither did you." Ali knew she shouldn't  mention it, but it did hurt that he hadn't noticed her transition. Not that she cared, exactly, but it was rare for her to feel beautiful and it would have been nice if, for once, he called her such.

By now, the song was beginning so he didn't answer. They took their positions and bowed before beginning to dance. It was an easier version of the one they'd tried at Skyhold, and Ali was pleased that they weren't making a hash of it. They stepped together, moving almost gracefully around the floor, and she felt a whirling moment of glee. She was actually doing it, dancing in a grand ballroom in a beautiful dress, secure in the arms of a... well, not a prince exactly, but she'd take Cullen over Sebastian any day.

As the tempo increased, so did Cullen's confidence in the steps. He was leading her properly now, and she had to wonder how he'd gotten proficient at this. She gave a glance around to see how close the other couples were and decided to risk it.

"Have you been practicing?" She whispered under her breath, not wanting to embarrass him.

The corner of his mouth quirked. "A little. I didn't want to embarrass you. I thought you might want... I mean..."

Oh. He'd taken all that time and energy, just in case she'd had a whim to dance. Every time she thought she'd reached the limits of her gratitude for him, he went and did something like this. "Thank you. For that and for everything. I couldn't do this without you." She didn't know how else to put it, so she just squeezed his hand as he led her into a turn.

"How long do you have to stay?" He looked uncomfortable with the sentiment she'd just expressed and was trying to change the subject.

"I think I'm about done with the nobles, but I may stay a bit. There are fireworks later, and I've never seen them before. I thought maybe I would go up to the roof and watch them."

"The roof?" Even through the mask she could tell his brow was furrowed. "How?"

"I saw a ladder earlier that should get me there. Why? What are you worried about?"

A faint blush crawled up his cheeks. "Assassins, I guess. Rather silly, I suppose."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Was this what had been bothering him before? It _was_ silly to think that she wouldn't be able to deal with a rooftop at night considering how her days were normally spent. Still, there was an opportunity here. "Well I was going to ask one of these fine Orlesian chevaliers to escort me, but I suppose you would do for protection. If you wanted to join me, that is."

At last, he smiled at her. "After this dance then, my lady."

*****

Up on the dais, Empress Celene watched the pair whirl gracefully around the floor. She was an old hand at this, and was sure no one could tell exactly where her gaze fell. She admired them, admired this woman who had risked life and limb for a country not her own, and admired this man who had played the fool all evening at her behest. They made a fine pair, she decided. His golden hair brought out the depth from her dark curls, and they moved together like two halves of a whole. As she watched, she saw the Inqu - no, Alinora, say something, and the Commander's smile bloomed across his whole face, making that absurdly roguish scar stretch temptingly. Yes, she was sure of it, sure of them.

A quiet cough at her elbow diverted her attention. A beardless dwarf in Inquisition colors was bent at the waist beside her. "You summoned me, Your Imperial Majesty?"

Celene turned and raised a hand, indicating he could rise. "You are Varric Tethras, famed author and member of the Inquisition?"

The dwarf was nervous, and a bullet of sweat dripped down his face. "Yes your, Majesty. Do you require something be written?"

"No, we do not." Celene considered him for a long moment, then decided to continue. "We have heard you are also keeper of the Inquisition's books."

Now he looked directly at her, a new glint in his eye. "You have heard correctly, Majesty. Shall I make a note for you?"

A tiny bag of coins appeared in the Empress's hand and she dropped it discreetly at the dwarf's feet. "Five sovereigns that the kiss will occur on Midwinter's Eve. Midnight, if I must be precise."

He bowed again, and the little bag disappeared as if by magic. "As the Empress commands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - THE ROOF!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence and a brief mention of rape.

"But... there was a ladder here earlier, I'm sure of it!" Ali stood at the end of the walkway, hands on her hips as she glared up at the overhang several feet above her head.

Cullen laughed at her distress, which she thought was probably fair under the circumstances. She'd been so proud that she remembered the layout of the palace, and had managed to find this balcony with only one dead end. "Sweetheart, they probably moved it to keep people from doing exactly what we're doing."

"Oh. So what, we just go back to the ball with everyone else?" She pouted a little, really not looking forward to getting by jostled by crowds all vying for the best viewing position of the promised fireworks.

Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips over her knuckles. "Have no fear, lady. This is why you bring a Ferelden soldier instead of an Orlesian chevalier." Without another word, he turned away from her and took two long leaps forward. Planting one foot on the side of the flowerbed, he launched himself backwards, grabbing a firm hold on the ledge. He curled up his body for a second, then with a display of strength that made Ali a little dizzy, straightened out and pulled his body onto the roof in one smooth motion.

He popped his head over the edge with a dimpled grin. "Your turn."

Ali kept her hands propped on her hips and tipped her head back to look at him. "What in our history makes you think I can do _that_?"

His only response was to dangle down a hand and waggle his eyebrows. Resigned, Ali hiked up the front of her dress  and knotted her hair behind her head. Leaping up, she grasped his wrist tightly. The muscles in his forearm tensed, but it was only a second before he lifted her up, using his other hand to draw her up. It was the cleanest rooftop she'd ever seen, and she was patently thankful for that as they stood, brushing each other off.

The air was crisp and almost cool, and when a breeze started to blow in, Ali broke out into goosebumps under her silk dress. Of course Cullen noticed, and without a word, shrugged out of his red jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

She turned in a circle to get her bearings, then pointed towards the wing under renovation. "Let's head that way. I think they're setting them off over the North Gardens."

It was slow going at first, neither one trusting the footing in the dim light from the moon. As their eyes adjusted, they grew more surefooted and picked up speed, dashing recklessly across the slate tiles, and whooping as they leapt over bits of rubble. They reached a ledge overlooking a flat section of roof and jumped down the few feet. Her foot caught a loose tile and she started to slide, but he grabbed her hand before she could. Once she had her feet back under her, he didn't let go.

Instead, he sent her out into a spin, around and around while her skirts billowed up around her hips. When he pulled her back, she landed against his chest with a thump. They were in shadow, and his face was hidden, but when he spoke, she knew he was smiling. "This was a really good idea, my lady."

She shook her head teasingly, hoping he could see it. "I'm not your lady. Now c'mon, or we're going to miss them." Keeping hold of his hand, she took off again, dragging him behind her.

They stumbled on a likely looking spot above the unrenovated guest quarters. At some time in the past, some enterprising Orlesian had built a tiny garden between two window eaves. There wasn't much left there but some  old flowerpots and a small stone bench, but it faced in the right direction and was hidden from the ground.

Cullen was ahead of her by now, holding her hand and leading the way. When they reached the bench he gave her another twirl and pushed her down so she landed in a giant poof of skirts. Laughing, she pulled him down next to her and swung her legs up over his lap.

Without missing a beat, he pulled off her slippers and started to rub her feet, starting with her toes and working towards her ankles. "It can't be easy dancing in those shoes you lot have to wear." He offered by way of explanation.

"Ooh, that's nice. And no, it isn't. It's even harder to fight in them." She flashed him a quick grin and scooted closer so he could rub her calves. "Thank you for dancing with me. It was a nice way to end the evening."

"Evenings not done yet, magelet," he replied saucily. Stopping the massage, he shifted his back against the stone, then reached over his shoulder and produced - of all things - a dagger.

Ali was perplexed by that. "When you mentioned assassins before, were you referring to yourself, by any chance?"

Rolling his eyes, he tossed the dagger under the bench. "Ha ha. I just wanted to be prepared in case things went pear shaped."

"So how many knives did you manage to smuggle in, then?" Ali knew this was an inane conversation, but she didn't care. She had foiled Corypheus once again and a beautiful man was giving her a foot rub by moonlight. This was the stuff dreams were made of.

"I have three. The one at my back, one in each sleeve. I even have lockpicks in my belt in case Sera needed them." He sounded proud of the last one, and she had to shake her head at that.

"I can't believe you encourage her. Josie is going to spend the next month returning the things she nicked."

"Yeah, probably."

They drifted off into silence for awhile, both looking up at the stars spread across the sky. His hands stilled, but he kept them on her legs, smoothing his thumbs over her knees. Ali felt like she could relax for the first time since they'd received their invitations for the ball, all those months ago. Everything seemed so far away, Corypheus and the Fade retreating into the background like a bad dream half remembered. She remembered the feel of her room during the blizzard, and wondered if the feeling of contentment she had then and now was more to do with the company than the location.

She was trying to think of a way to phrase that when he spoke, low and casual. "You do look beautiful in your dress tonight, by the way."

Her sense of calm shattered at once, backfilling with irritation at him. It was probably uncalled for, but something in the way he way he tossed that off made it sound like it complimenting her was a requisition he needed to fulfill, a reward for having exerting the proper amount of effort on her appearance. Ali wasn't sure how to respond, but she knew she didn't want him touching her just now. She jerked her legs off his lap, meaning to pull them under herself in case she wanted to run. He didn't let her though, catching one of her ankles in his grip and holding it - not pulling it back, just keeping her from hiding.

"What's wrong? What did I do?" His voice was confused now, and her anger started to fade when faced with his obvious concern.

But even fading anger can still burn. "Don't say that. Don't... it's empty flattery, and I can't take anymore of it. Not tonight, and never from you." She wasn't explaining it right, but anything else would have sounded like self-pity, and she still had some pride left.

"What?" His confusion hadn't waned, but now he was sounded a little angry? Frustrated? "Why do you think that was empty?"

"Because I have a nice ass, Cullen!" Ali spat out the words before she could temper them, and once they were out it seemed like a good idea to just keep them coming. "Because up until now, the only compliment you've ever paid my looks had to do with what a spankable butt I have. I know you think I'm sexy enough when we're in the middle of a rummage, but that isn't the same thing!" To her shame, her voice broke on the last sentence and she found herself blinking back tears.

Just then, the fireworks started, shocking them both. High above their heads, magefire burst in brilliant colors, illuminating their tiny nook with flashes of green and gold. She could see his face now, see the crestfallen expression as he tried to think of a rebuttal to her outburst. Finally, he lifted his free hand and ran it through his hair, sending it into disarray. He looked at her with an apology in his eyes. "Maker's breath. I've really never..."

"Forget I said anything." All her anger had trickled away, and now she just felt stupid for having exposed herself so basely. "Let's just watch the show, okay?"

"No, it isn't okay, sweetheart." He tugged on her ankle, drawing her back across the bench. "Come here, I want to look at you when I say this." She let herself be pulled over to him, then over onto his lap, straddling his thighs. He didn't say anything else for a long minute, just brushed the hair back from her face before settling his hands on her waist.

"I thought you were pretty the first time I saw you." He sounded certain of himself, and of his words, and Ali tried to really listen to what he was saying. "It was a few days before the Conclave, and all the delegates were trickling in. You were sitting on the stairs with a group of mages, and I remember thinking - oh, hey pretty lass. I wasn't struck by love at first sight or anything, but you caught my eye. I didn't think about it again until you fell out of the Fade and I realized you were the same girl."

Ali remembered those steps, and those mages. Orlesians, maybe. She didn't remember seeing Cullen, but she hadn't been paying much attention to anyone who couldn't help her find her brothers.

"After you woke up, I didn't think much of you, except that you were lovely but useless. You remember the day at the lake - I called you spoiled and you put me in my place. The whole time I rode out to get your phylactery, I wondered if I was only doing it because you were pretty, if it was vanity that made me want your approval. And then we were friends, and then we were best friends, and I realized it didn't matter that I liked the way you looked, because I really just like you. You're sweet, and funny, and very wise. I think that all the time, but I don't say those things to you because... they're so apparent to me that I assume they're just as apparent to you. But that's not fair, and I apologize."

She could hardly breathe through his whole monologue, and was terribly afraid she was going to pass out and miss some of his words. No one, ever in her whole life, had said anything like this to her before. It was embarrassing, and wonderful, and she didn't know how she was ever going to speak to him again after this, and oh Maker, he was still talking.

"Tonight, in this dress with your hair spilling down - you look like a princess out of a story, albeit a very naughty one. I didn't know how to say anything at all, not after a night of mooning over some half made up version of the mighty Inquisitor. Because... you aren't the Inquisitor, not to me most of the time. You're just Ali, my ridiculously beautiful best friend, and I couldn't say anything about your dress, not in a room full of people."

"Oh. Thank you." There was something there, behind his words and spilling out around them, but she was afraid to look at it. Instead, she tipped her head back at the fireworks and let what he said wash over her. She made no move to get off his lap and slid her hands around to the back of his neck, rubbing away some of the tension he always carried there. After a few minutes, she moved from his neck to his hair, running hands through his curls slowly and deliberately.

"Was it hard for you tonight? Pretending?" She shouldn't ask this, she knew she shouldn't poke at this particular nest, but his words and his hands on her hips made her feel heady and reckless.

He tilted his head at her question, looking up at her curiously, and something between them shifted a little - went slant wise and the conversation had an entirely different tone. "No. It was easy. I just pretended I was over on the other side of the line."

"The line?" He wasn't making sense, except maybe he was and she just missed it because of the way his hands were slipping up over her waist, making her skin tighten with anticipation and her breath come short. As always, she was amazed at how quickly the mood shifted. They would go days without anything beyond camaraderie, and then one glance or one brushed hand would send her spinning out, leaving her hot with need and aching for a moment alone with him and his fingers.

"Mm-hmm." One of his hands started creeping up ever further, splaying over the lines of boning that held her upright. "The line that we don't cross. The line we drew because of war, and duty and Varric's stupid bets." With just the barest pressure of a fingertip, he brushed slowly across her chest, bringing up a trail of goosebumps above the neckline of her dress. His voice got even huskier, sending shivers down her spine. "The line that says I have to bite you when I want to kiss you."

Cullen seemed captivated by her breasts, tracing a finger back and forth and staring at them with a slightly dazed look on his face. Licking his lower lip, he slid his hand around and flicked one thumbnail over her nipple. It was a bolt of lighting straight through her, brought all the sensations of his hands whirling together and plunging right between her legs.

Ali couldn't take it anymore and she ground herself against him uselessly. The spread of his thighs meant that there was no friction for her, no way to address the growing pressure in her core. She was nearly shaking with want, with the need to have him keep touching her, keep talking to her, keep his warm hands on her, and she was about two seconds away from outright begging. She wanted to tell him that, but thought if she opened her mouth she might start to howl.

She used her grip on his hair to tilt his head back, looking down at him in the ongoing glow from the fireworks. His eyes were dark with desire, and he was almost panting himself. His lips were parted, and Ali didn't think she'd ever wanted anything more than to know what they tasted like, what they felt like under hers, what sort of sounds he would make if she sucked on his tongue. But no, she couldn't do that, they'd agreed on their limits for good reason and she wouldn't risk everything they were working for. "I know that line."

Knowing where the line was gave her the confidence to dance right up to it. Very, very slowly, giving him time to pull away if it was too much, she lowered her face to his. Pulling back her lips a little, she bit him, very gently, on his scar. It wasn't a kiss - definitely not. Kisses are tender things, and this wasn't that. This was just teeth scraping over skin, with a bit of tongue to soothe the sting, feeling his eyelashes flutter against her cheek.

Below her, he'd gone very still, every muscle tensed with self-control, forcing himself not to move until she was done. She worked her way around, nibbling up his stubbly jaw  until she reached his ear. She gave a tiny nip to his earlobe, which seemed to be the last straw for his reserve.

The hands on her hips tightened almost painfully and he jerked her forward, sliding her up his thighs towards, _Oh Maker_. He was deliciously hard under already, and here was a chance for the friction she craved so desperately. She tried to grind down, but her dress was in the way, bunching between them and keeping her unfulfilled.

"Fuck..." He was growling now, and hastily lifted her to sweep the skirts out of the way before pulling her back down, squarely centered over his cock. Ali shuddered as she was finally able to slake some of the growing need between her legs, sliding herself up the length of him with a roll of her hips, reveling in the feel of being so damn close to him, separated by only a few layers of cloth.

It was almost enough, but she couldn't quite manage to get the angle she needed, and she was sure the sounds of want coming out of her would be embarrassing later. For now, she had no shame as she writhed on his lap and mewled in his ear, hungry and begging.

And because it was Cullen - her best friend, who always cared for her, who always noticed when she was tired or angry or cold - he knew what she needed even through his own haze of lust and slid a hand up her skirts, sending up sparks on her bare thigh and finding the spot she was panting for. He pressed a thumb against her clit and now there were more fireworks, in the sky overhead and over her body, lighting up every nerve and singing them awake.

He was almost silent under her, face buried in her neck and growls coming from deep in his chest. She found his nipple through his thin shirt and gave it a flick with her thumbnail and he reacted much as she had- letting out a groan and thrusting up, looking for more, harder, faster. His stubble rasped her skin as he moved his mouth down to nibble along the top of her breasts, muttering now, saying _Ali, Ali, Ali_.

Just when she couldn't take it anymore, when the pressure and pleasure was almost too much, her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, sweeping her up into a feeling of falling apart. She quaked under it, shoulders bowed back and eyes closing on the sight of him watching her - warm brown eyes enraptured with the look on her face as she came all over his hand. It was enough to send him over the edge too. The arm around her was suddenly made of steel as his muscles clenched - he pulled her forward and crushed her against his chest as his hips snapped up frantically, the pool of wetness between them growing.

Always before, they had kept a distance between them with only one person getting satisfaction at a time. Ali lay in the afterglow, curled around him and wondered why that did that, thinking _I like it better this way_. There couldn't be anything comparable to this feeling, she decided, the deep contentment of frantic movement followed by a shared feeling of fuzziness. It felt like they were melting together, both buried in the others shoulder, hands gently soothing across skin as they slowly came back to themselves.

Underneath her, Cullen gave a small chuckle. "I think we've ruined my pants."

She smiled into the curve of his neck, but her retort was cut off by a voice from above her. "But what a reason to ruin them, eh _bricon_?"

*****

Disbelievingly, Ali raised her head and looked up, directly into the masked eyes of the man aiming a crossbow at her face. Cullen tensed underneath her and tapped three times on her back - there were more behind them.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Distracted by the fireworks and each other, the Herald of Andraste and the Commander of the Armies of the Inquisition had been set upon by common bandits. It was just about the funniest thing that she'd ever heard of - except not, because they were alone and unarmed. She'd used up copious amounts of mana earlier this evening and she wasn't at all sure her legs would support her if she tried to stand. Even her Anchor was useless - without a staff to help her focus, there was no guarantee she could keep Cullen from being affected by the Fade energies.

The man with the crossbow made a gesture, and she just stared at him stupidly. Impatient, he clicked his tongue and she was suddenly dragged off Cullen's lap by a hand fisted in her hair. Before either of them could react, she felt cold steel against her throat. Another burst of color crackled overhead and she saw it glint off of something on the ground - the dagger! She'd forgotten about his daggers!

By the way Cullen was looking at her, he hadn't forgotten. He was pretending again, hands outstretched in a pleading gesture and talking in the worst Orlesian accent she'd ever heard. "Pleaze messers, I beg you not to hurt ma wife." He put his hands together like he was begging, but she knew he was trying to get into his sleeves for the knives that were concealed there.

The man behind her had terrible breath, and she gagged a little when he slid his other hand around to her breast. "I wouldn't worry about that. She'll be thanking us when this is all through." Ali was almost grateful for the threat - she didn't like hurting desperate men turned to banditry, but she could kill rapists with a clean conscience. From the way Cullen's eyes narrowed, he seemed to have reached a similar conclusion.

Since this wasn't going to end peacefully, she decided to get things moving. Thanking Celene for the gift of the archer's glove, she grabbed the blade at her throat with her left hand, trusting the leather to shield her palm from the sharp edge. Using a move Blackwall had taught her long ago, she twisted her captor over her shoulder and sent him sailing towards Cullen at the same time a crossbow bolt went flying six inches to the right of her face.

As soon as she'd moved, Cullen had freed one of his knives and tossed it behind him, catching the crossbowman high in the shoulder, ruining his aim. He paused only long enough to kick the long dagger out from below the bench in Ali's direction, then kicked the thrown man in the face as he charged at the rest of them.

She took this in in an instant, noting idly that she'd never know him to roar quite like that before. There were six other men, grouped around the entrance to their little nook. They all turned to focus on the charging Commander and quite ignored any threat Ali posed.

Whatever. It was their funeral.

The dagger had landed close to her, but there was a sword wielding man in her way, leering at her breasts with rotten teeth. She gave a maidenly shriek and flapped her hands, and as soon as he stepped in, she whirled one of her voluminous sleeves over his head, blocking his face. She punched him,  just the way Cassandra had taught her - one two three quick jabs to his nose. He stepped back, blinded from pain and she leapt forward, snatching the dagger and stabbing it in below his jaw.

She turned to check on how the rest of the fight was going, and saw that it was nearly over. One bandit was lying dead with a broken neck - Cullen must have caught him barehanded. That explained how he'd gotten the sword that he was now using to fend off three of the men at once as they circled him with their own blades. Even with three of them, it wasn't going to be anything like a fair fight, and sure enough, Cullen dropped out of his defensive stance to skewer one of them in a move that was almost too fast to follow.

That left one man unaccounted for, but any self-respecting crew would have a lockpick. Ali scanned the shadowy corners, trying to unfocus her eyes. It was the only way she ever could spot Cole on the battlefield, so if her suspicions were right... Ah, there he was, lurking in the corner and ignoring her entirely while watching for his chance to stab Cullen in the back. With a sigh at the man's utter incompetence, Ali took a few long steps to come up behind him and neatly slit his throat.

She finished him just as Cullen killed the last of his men, cutting off his pleas for mercy with a thrust through his heart. Ali knew better than to run up to someone who had just finished a fight so she stayed a few steps away, leaning back against the wall and breathing hard.

A few seconds later, his sword clattered to the ground and he was in front of her, coolly examining her for any trace of injuries. She didn't protest, knew he needed to be sure she was safe - friendship aside, she was still the Inquisitor. He was spattered with blood, and his collar was damp with sweat, but otherwise he looked uninjured. Ali shook her head at herself, this was a minor fight in her books; but how many people could take on seven armed men and walk through it unscathed?

Finally, Cullen seemed satisfied that she was okay. Cupping her face he leaned his head forward, resting his forehead on hers. Nose to nose, she asked him, "You okay, Commander?"

He nodded against her face. "I'll be fine. I just haven't killed anyone barehanded in years. I'd forgotten how much I hate the feeling."

She was about to say something reassuring when she heard a twang-thump sound, followed quickly by Cullen jerking and yelling "FUCK!" directly in her face. He toppled over and she saw that the forgotten crossbowman had managed to somehow reload and aim with one totally useless arm, blood staining his whole left side. She didn't know how badly Cullen was injured and didn't even stop to think, just pulled up everything she had and let a stream of fire loose at the man, burning him to a crisp before he had time to scream.

Mana completely spent, she dropped to her knees beside Cullen, who was clutching his thigh and hissing obscenities through gritted teeth. As spots danced in front of her eyes, Ali batted his hands away to look. "The bolt is still in there, but I don't think it's bad."

He rolled his eyes at her, which, combined with the gritted teeth and flared nostrils, made him look like a gargoyle. "It fucking hurts. Pull it out."

"But - "

"Pull. It. Out." He squished his eyes closed and reached out to grab a handful of her skirts. Ali decided to trust his opinion on treating wounds and leaned over. She wrapped one arm around his leg and took a firm hold of the bolt, pulling it out in one smooth motion. He screamed when she did, but that was only to be expected. Quickly, before the blood started flowing too much, Ali ripped off one of her sleeves and twisted it into a loose rope, tying it tightly over the wound.

Untangling his hand from her skirts, she held it tightly until he let go and started to sit up. She tried to stand, and staggered against the wall again. By the time she was recovered enough to stand on her own, he had more or less pushed himself upright.

"Maker's balls, Cullen. Wait here, and I'll go get help."

He shook his head stubbornly, leaning against the wall beside her. "We'll go together. Just give me a moment." He seemed to be waiting for something, but she didn't mind the delay. Every second that passed made her mana refill just a little bit more, making her more steady on her feet.

After a few minutes, he reached out for her hand and they started to move; albeit slowly, and leaning heavily on each other.

"Out of curiosity Lady, do you have any ideas on how we're going to get off this roof?"

"Not a one. But look on the bright side."

"What bright side?"

"No one will notice that we ruined your pants."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These poor kids. Just can't catch a break...
> 
> I have an idea for a new chapter that would come right after this one. It's pretty cracktastic and I'm not sure if it will work. I may take a day or two off from posting while I pull it together.


	38. Chapter 38

By the time they made it off the roof, Cullen was hazy with pain and blood loss. He blacked out on the ride to their lodgings, but was jostled awake when Bull carried him inside and laid him face down on a bed. Cullen expected the big Qunari to head back to his room, but instead he knelt by the side of the bed, his face very close to Cullen's and a look of great concern in his eye.

"Before Solas gets in here - I gotta ask. Is the boss okay?"

That was awfully confusing in Cullen's pain-addled brain. Hadn't they already covered this on the way home? He could have sworn he had heard Ali tell everyone that she just needed sleep. Shaking his head in a tiny gesture, he muttered, "Just mana."

The Iron Bull didn't move, and his expression was very serious. "Cullen, I can smell semen under the blood. If someone hurt the Inquisitor, then she'll need a healer."

That took a second to land, but when it did, heat bloomed under his cheeks and he hid his face in the bedspread. "She wasn't... We were... I can explain..."

A heavy hand landed on his back and patted him lightly. "Please don't. As long as she consented, it isn't my business. I'll get rid of the evidence."

By the time Bull had him stripped down, modesty protected by a towel, Solas had appeared wearing a rather silly peaked nightcap. He busied himself examining the wound on the back of Cullen's thigh, who tried valiantly not to flinch as the edges were poked and prodded. Finally the elf sat back on his heels and produced a potion from the bag next to him.

"Well Commander, it seems the bolt wasn't poisoned but it was filthy. I'll need to clean it thoroughly, and unless you'd like to be awake for the process -"

With all the speed left in him, Cullen snatched the potion out of Solas's hands and gulped it down, ready for the night to finally, blessedly, end.

*****

When he woke up again, the first thing he noticed was the thin light was streaming through the window from the west - he must have slept all the way through till the afternoon. The next thing he noticed was Ali sitting on the ground next to the bed, absorbed in her grimoire.

She hadn't seen he was awake yet, so he took the opportunity to watch her unobserved. She looked like her usual self again, all traces of the ball scrubbed away. He wondered how she had ever thought, even for a second, that she wasn't beautiful. She was the most perfect thing he could imagine seeing upon waking and he tried to commit her to memory - the way she tugged on her ear as she read, the way she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, green eyes sparkling against the tan of her face.

Cullen knew that something had shifted between them for a moment the night before, but he wasn't sure what to do with that yet. It seemed too much to deal with at the moment, so he shied away from further contemplation of what might have changed or what his new course should be. "Magelet?" he managed to croak out.

At the sound of his voice, some of the concern left her face. Setting aside her book, she brushed back his hair. "Hey there sleepyhead. How are you feeling?"

Cullen grimaced as full wakefulness descended. "Sore. And I think something crawled into my mouth and died there."

"Well that's easily remedied." Flashing a smile, she turned to pour him some water. "Solas says there's no sign of infection, so you should be ready to go by tomorrow at the latest."

He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, wincing as his back stretched and popped. It hadn't escaped his notice that she had said 'you' not 'we', and she was dressed in her leathers. "Aren't you coming back with us? Are you okay?"

Holding the cup up so he could rinse his mouth and drink, she shook her head. "I'm fine. Drank some lyrium and perked right up. But now I have to go do a thing. I'll be back to Skyhold in a few weeks."

The thought that she might be running from him flashed through his mind, but he dismissed it easily. If she was worried about last night, she would have left while he was unconscious. He stopped drinking and caught her eye. "What's amiss then, Lady?"

Ali set down the cup and knelt by the bed. "Vivienne's Duke is dying. She has an idea for a sort of Hail Brona final play, but she needs my help."

"What is it?" Cullen lay flat again so he could look at her straight on.

"Some sort of potion. We're going to go to the Plains and see about finding a snowy wyvern for one of the ingredients. I figured to take Blackwall - I think he's feeling cooped up at Skyhold."

"Mmm. You should take Varric too - he's hunted wyvern with Hawke."

Ali looked surprised at his easy acquiescence, or maybe his mention of Hawke, but she didn't pursue it. Instead, she kissed his knuckles firmly. "I didn't want to leave while you were asleep. Take care of yourself, and I'll wake you the second I get home."

****

For once though, Alinora and her party did not creep back into Skyhold under the dark of the moon. A month after they'd said goodbye, Cullen was in the yard drilling recruits when he heard a shout from the battlements, and the flash of green at the flagpole that meant the Inquisitor had been sighted on the bridge.

He paused the lesson and headed towards the gate, arriving just as Ali rode in. Cullen was expecting her usual effusive greeting to everyone in the courtyard, but today she just seemed aged and worn. Vivienne was on the horse beside her, and the imperious mage looked utterly blank. Without a word, she dismounted and headed for the main doors of the keep, sparing not glimpse at her companions or a thought for her belongings.

As Ali leaned forward to snatch the abandoned reins, she caught Cullen's eye and gave a tiny head shake, confirming the worst. He'd known that the outlook wasn't good, but the confirmation of the Duke's death was still a blow. He had never met the man, never spared him a passing thought, but he had great respect for Vivienne and could certainly grieve on her behalf.

He tried to communicate this back to Ali with a small frown, and she replied with a sad shrug. Pointing towards the stables, her eyebrow raised in a question. Would he join her?

Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, he indicated that he couldn't, but he did point to her tower and hold up six fingers. Should he come up before dinner to see her?

She considered that, then held up eight fingers and nodded. That meant she wasn't going to make it to dinner, but would see him after. Their wordless exchange over, she turned to ride to the stables and he returned to his recruits.

*****

Cullen couldn't shake the feeling that he should do something for Vivienne. While they weren't really friends, she had been a huge help during his lyrium withdrawals, spending tireless hours teaching him the basics of meditation and finding him some true moments of peace. In addition, they'd found common ground as former inhabitants of the Circles - while they had been on opposite sides, they shared a background, which was rare in a place like Skyhold.

All through his afternoon training, he considered what he knew of her, and of her Duke. She certainly didn't want any outright sympathy, that was for sure. Presents would mean nothing, and they weren't close enough for him to offer a shoulder to cry on. What he really needed was to find the equivalent of what had been offered to him - a way to feel useful while being helped, so that no debt was incurred on either side.

He didn't arrive at the answer until after he'd dismissed the recruits. He swung through his quarters to wipe himself down when he suddenly realized what he would want if he were in her situation, and what he alone in Skyhold would be in a position to offer. Snatching a clean shirt, he went to find Vivienne.

The woman in question was leaning against her balcony, silhouetted by the setting sun. She turned as Cullen approached, and though she showed no outward signs of grief, there was a tension in her face that spoke to her iron will holding back rivers of pain.

"Commander. Did you need something?"

Bowing, he approached her slowly. "First-Enchanter. I apologize for disturbing you so soon after your return, but I had a favor to ask."

"Oh?" She cocked her head to the side like a bird of prey.

Cullen wasn't intimidated by her - Vivienne was an imposing woman, but he had worked under Meredith for years. "Some of the newer recruits have been acting a little... cocky. About mages, in particular. I thought it would be good for them to see what a mage is capable of. It doesn't seem appropriate for the Inquisitor to flaunt her magic, but I thought if you could spare the time..."

Her head tilt changed from intimidating to curious. Clearly, she'd caught the true offer behind his words. A chance to show off what she could do, a chance to really let loose with all her power, to let her grief and rage fuel a truly spectacular show - all fully authorized and monitored by an ex-Templar who could stop her from hurting anyone.... A tiny smile glinted in her eyes as she inclined her head. "Of course Commander. If it will help the troops."

*****

Sure enough, Ali didn't make it down for dinner, and the rumor was she'd been asleep all afternoon. According to Blackwall, she had taken all of Vivienne's watches on their way back from Orlais and over dinner, Varric took great delight in recounting the tale of yet another dragon fight. Cullen couldn't even get annoyed about this one, since it had attacked in the middle of killing the wyvern. Still, he was starting to worry about where they were going to put all these dragon skulls around Skyhold.

After dinner, he excused himself to the War Room, grateful he could cut through to Alinora's quarters. If he'd gone straight there, he would have had to listen to a whole slew of off-color jokes from the assembled party about what he and the Inquisitor were up to behind closed doors.

That thought made him glance at The Iron Bull, but he was fixated on a joke Varric was telling. Bull hadn't mentioned a thing since the incident at the palace, had in fact behaved exactly as he always had before. The thought crossed Cullen's mind to wonder if Bull had known about them before - sometimes it seemed like the former spy knew everyone's secrets and just kept them all locked away under his horns.

As the bell tolled eight, Cullen slipped up the stairs to Ali's quarters, knocking lightly in case she was still asleep. She was awake, but based on her mussed hair and sleepy grin, hadn't been for long. He dropped a quick kiss on top of her head and handed her the meat pie he'd snatched from the kitchen a few minutes earlier.

Her smile brightened as she snatched the pie. She managed to get out, "How's the leg?" before stuffing most of her dinner in her mouth in one go. Cullen rolled his eyes at her, wondering how she would manage if he didn't make sure she was fed.

"Leg is fine. Didn't even leave a scar." He crossed the room to her tea service and started preparing them each a cup. "I heard about the dragon by the way. Sounded nasty. And I'm very sorry to hear about the Duke."

Pie finished, Ali flopped down behind her desk and poked at the pile of correspondence before her. "It was a bad scene. We got there just in time for her to watch him die, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. Vivienne seems to be taking it a little too well - I'm worried about her."

He set a cup down in front of her before taking the seat across the desk. "I saw her earlier. She agreed to give a little fire and lighting show for the men - I thought it might help."

"That was good of you." Her smile brightened a little at the thought. "I'm going to give her a few days then try to talk to her about it. Anything else afoot I need to know about?"

"Um... I probably should have told you this before, but Bull knows." Cullen grimaced a little.

"Bull knows what?" She took a tiny sip of tea before awareness dawned. She froze, hand suspended in midair and it was a long second before she swallowed. "Oh _shit_."

"I think it's okay. He hasn't said anything to me, and if he'd told Dorian, you would have heard the shouts of triumph all the way to Orlais. I don't think he cares, honestly." Cullen was reassuring himself as much as her, but it seemed to be working.

Carefully placing her teacup back on the desk, she rubbed her hands briskly down her face. "I'm going to pretend that I don't know that he knows. I don't think I can face him otherwise." Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject. "What's with all this mail, then?"

He was grateful for the subject change, and happy she'd chosen this one. "A caravan from Redcliffe brought this in yesterday. There's too much for one person to go through, and Leliana doesn't want her people looking at it until it's been vetted, so we tried to split it up. There is one thing you'll like in there."

Reaching under the pile, he extracted a small brown parcel and handed it to her. "This came to Varric from his dear old pal, Johnny. I caught him trying to steam the seal open."

Ali laughed delightedly at having news from her brother and tore into the paper. Inside was another wrapped package with a note attached. She unfolded the note and read it, looking confused. He made a questioning noise, and she read the note aloud.

_Twit - Found this on a march through the Marches. Hope Mum didn't see it. Love always, Brags_

"Well, what is it?" Cullen wondered impatiently.

Ali shrugged, turning the package over and over in her hands before carefully opening it. It was a book, little more than a pamphlet. Cullen couldn't see the cover, but he could see the way Ali's eyes bugged out in shock before she dropped it like it had bit her.

He leaned over the desk to look at it. The front cover was a pretty good sketch of a big breasted woman embracing a well armored man with billowing hair and an enormous scar on his face. Underneath, bold letters proclaimed:

**The Templer's ORDERS**

**Being the first chapter of an account of**

**The GREAT and EROTIQUE Adventures of the HARLOT of ANDRAESTE**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this cracky idea I had turned into a proper chapter, but then there was a whole bit about Vivienne that had to expand, and I need a little more time to get the rest of it just right. 
> 
>  
> 
> So yeah. More later.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might owe everyone an apology for this chapter... so sorry in advance.

The two friends stared at each other in horror across the desk. Between them the pamphlet's vulgar cover leered, taunting them with what it might hold.

Ali was still trying to process this - someone had written smut. About her. About her and Cullen. Smut about her and Cullen and it was in wide enough circulation that her brother had found a copy. Her _brother_! When she spoke, she knew her voice was faint with shock. "Please tell me I'm hallucinating."

Cullen sounded just as stunned. "I wish I could, but I've never had a dream this bad." He picked up her quill and used the edge to flip it over, hiding the cover. There was no author information on the back, so he reversed it again. "What should we do?"

"I think - I think I want to read it." It was that or throw it into the fire, but something like this couldn't be hidden from. If she didn't look at it now, the curiosity would kill her. Tentatively, she picked up the pamphlet by a corner. "So help me, I'm curious. You?"

"Honestly... I'm dying to know."

Ali felt some of her worry recede, glad the awkwardness of the situation was turning into a shared joke between them. She left the desk and settled on the rug by the fire where the light was better. Cullen joined her, pausing only long enough to snag a bottle of her good wine. Wordlessly, he traded it for the book. While she focused her magic and chilled the bottle to frosty, he cleared his throat and began to read.

_The dragon was fearsome in its visage and its lizard's skin was lizard like in its pebbles. It was longer than a warship and billows of fire emerged from its mouth with every heaving breath. The brave Templar was unafraid and though armed with naught but a broken broadsword Commander Calum-_

At the reveal of the Templar's name a tiny cackle popped out of Ali's mouth. "Calum? Really?"

Cullen snatched the wine bottle out of her hands. "Don't laugh. If you start, you'll never stop." Looking close to laughing himself, he took a long gulp from the bottle.

She nodded very seriously and tried to school her face. Picking up where he'd left off, she started to read.

_\- Calum killed the dragon quickly, as he was wont to do. Like a king in a mountain, he stood atop the dying reptile, victorious in his victory. His heart thudded in his chest ripped with muscle. The wind blew in his golden locks. His eyes were like pools of whiskey colored water searching the horizon for a sign of his lady_.

"Dammit, of course that's in there. " Ali grumped.

Cullen nudged the book. "Keep going. I think we're about to meet the Harlot." 

_Evelyn bounded to Calum, her stacked bosom a'quivering. He admired her fine form as she flung herself sobbing into his arms. Her billowing bronze hair glinted like a midnight raven, and her lips were like two rubies inlaid in ivory. She is curvy as a breaking wave with a waste that is small enough for his hands to wrap around._

Ali paused in her reading. "Is that even possible?"

"Let's see." Cullen leaned over and wrapped his hands around the smallest part of Ali's waist. "Not even close. What kind of harlot are you?"

She gave him an icy glare. "Sure you want to bring size into this, Commander? I know how these stories usually go."

He didn't dignify that with a reply beyond a faint blush, so she started to read again, adding funny voices to the dialogue.

_"Oh my darling sunbeam, to think that you could have been killed." A tear leaked from Evelyn's eye, increasing her beauty a dozen fold._

_"No, my little sweet roll, I promise never to die. For how could I die when I have not yet lived, and how can I have lived when I have not yet tasted of your most succulent mouth?"_

_Evelyn gasped in shock, for how could such a sheltered maiden such as she respond to such a base request? Calum pressed forward, crushing her against the manly planes of his chest, relishing the feeling of her raspberry sized nipples pressed against him_.

"Raspberries? Really?" Ali pulled out the neckline of her shirt and looked down. "I don't think that's a very apt metaphor."

Cullen grabbed the book away from her. "I wouldn't know lady. I've never seen them."

_Evelyn batted at him as he plundered her ripe and ready mouth with his nimble tongue, leaving no nook or cranny unbaptized by his fiery lust. His blood was in flames when he knew that he at last had her at his mercy. Leaving the sanctity of her precious lips, Calvin peppered kisses down to her breasts and tore away the fabric there with a quick shake of his head._

_Pressing his advantage, he pressed her back against the bed -_

"Half a mo'." Ali interrupted the story again. "Weren't they just killing a dragon? How did they get to a bed?"

He flipped back to the previous page and scanned the text. "I have no sodding idea. Either the dragon was in the bed with them, or they walked all the way inside while he was eating through her clothes. Either way, this is _dreadful_."

Ali traded the bottle back to him. "It really is. Let's skip ahead to the good parts." She read forward quickly, stopping when it looked like actual sex was going to commence.

_Evelyn squealed as the pressure of his weeping head on her velvet butterfly, and batted at him ineffectually with fingers as delicate as twigs. "Ooh, we cannot!" Her maidenly shyness was unconvincing. Her succulent breasts bounce as she trembled under him and he knew the truth she was too well-born to utter._

"Cullen, is it just me, or is this really rapey?" Ali knew this was a common trope, but this seemed extreme. Poor Evelyn hadn't done anything more than simper this whole time.

"It's not just you. We can stop if you want."

Ali shook her head and kept reading, though it took a masterful effort not to lose it at the next part.

_At last he entered her, his massive thing pressing her sweet lips open like a baby bird's mouth. Her cunt only swallowed a tiny percentage of his glory before he met with fierce resistance. "Oh, a true maid! You have saved yourself for me!"_

_With a mighty blow, Calum's meat sword shattered the shield of her innocence, his turgid rod making her a woman at last. Her natural instincts took over and her internal softness squeezed around him, milking him in demand of his salty offering. He rejoiced to see that her pleasure had arrived and held her in its thrall as he coated her insides with his hot, fertile seed._

"Well that was over rather quickly, wasn't it? Did Evelyn even come?" Ali was a little disappointed there wasn't more to it.

"Honey, they're fictional characters. Besides, that's hardly the worst thing in here."

"True, but it still seems unfair. And what's with that bit about his fertile seed? Two sovereigns says this thing ends with her knocked up."

"I refuse that bet on account of you're right and of course she's ending up pregnant." With a smile and a shake of his head, Cullen took a turn reading.

" _Ooh." The pink tinge across her breast told him that he had served her well. Evelyn's eyelashes fluttered coquettishly as he withdrew. "Oh serrah, what would my father think? You have transformed into naught but a common harlot with your depravity and I love you for it!"_

"Oh good, maybe she did come."

"I think you're missing the point."

_The confession of her love hard-won as it was reawoke the beast within him and his pulsing member was once more a granite monument to his devotion and he did not stop to allow her a moment to rest as he pushed her onto her elbows and knees with the succulent globes of her buttocks suspended in the air like the ripest peach from an Antivan summer home near the coast of Antiva._

Cullen had to stop reading for a second to take a breath. "Maker that was all one sentence. And he's ready again? Is Calum supposed to be sixteen?" At her shrug, he moved to the next line.

_Pressing a finger into her exit-rose-_

"WHAT?!?" Ali was dumbfounded, but Cullen was too shocked himself to notice her reaction. "You have got to be making that up!!" Without waiting for an answer, she rolled to the side and started reading over his shoulder. 

_Pressing a finger into her exit-rose he found her already wet and ready there as well._

"I can't believe it." Ali covered her face in shock. "That is an actual sentence that someone actually wrote down on paper. And that is not how butts work!" She froze, staring straight ahead, hoping against all hope that Cullen was still too distracted to notice what she said.

But damn him, he always noticed what she said. Very slowly, he rolled over, placing them face to face. "Alinora Trevelyan, how would you know a thing like that?"

She knew she was blushing, and the way he was looking at her was hotter than anything they had read that night. A lot hotter. "Umm... Dorian told me?"

"Uh huh." He was unconvinced by her squeaky tone. "Are you lying?"

"No!" She punched him in the shoulder. "I've never done it! I just asked him how he and Bull..."

"Really?" Cullen's eyes were dancing with curiosity. "What did he say?"

"Oil, three fingers and lots and lots of trust." Unable to resist the question, she asked him, "Have you ever done it?"

Now it was his turn to blush, and he did, as deeply as she'd ever seen. "Not exactly. But I'd really appreciate it if we could save that story for another time. Can we just finish this please? I think we're nearing the end."

"Fine, fine." Huffing, Ali found the place they'd left off.

_Roaring like a warrior on the field of battle facing down a multitude of enemy combatants, Callum rode forth, plunging into the most forbidden of all caverns to find the treasure within._

_Evelyn trembled again, her pleasure unabated as she crushed her soft breasts to the hard furred planes of his chest._

Ali licked her finger and turned the page, asking, "Wasn't she just face down? I feel like they're all tied in knots." As soon as she saw the first line of the last page, her gut clenched up. Oh, he was going to _hate_ this...

_Suddenly! The door burst open and in strode the Eagle, the Champion of Tantervale. "I have heard the cries of a maiden in plight, but hark! it was not distress I heard in my ears!" His lyrium blue eyes glinted like jealous fire as he watched Calum's enormous member disappear into the place where he so longed to dock his own ship._

"What?!?" Cullen bellowed as he grabbed at the book. Ali pulled it out of his way and kept reading.

_Calum's paused in his exertions to taunt his long-time rival. "Alas, I have plundered her depths already, my friend. What is left for you?"_

"Ali, give me the fucking story! I'm serious!" Cullen finally wrestled her to the ground and yanked the pages out of her hand. "I do not want to picture you getting buggered by Hawke!" 

"As opposed to me getting buggered by you?" Her voice was muffled by the thick rug, but she knew he'd heard her. She was daring him to protest, to agree, to make any kind of move. "Are you only okay with this as long as you're the one doing the plundering?"

Instead of a retort or defense, she got only silence. The pages crumpled as he lay them down next to her head. "Of course not. I apologize, I overreacted. Please, finish the story."

Ali really wanted to turn and look at him, but she was afraid of what might be on his face - or not there, as the case might be. If she asked him again, and he said no... well, that didn't bear thinking about. She smoothed out the cheap paper and read out the last few lines as quickly as she could.

_Reaching into his trousers, Eagle withdrew his own turgid appendage, even larger than the one Calum was so thoroughly ramming in and out of the Harlot's quivering asshole. "Be not selfish, my friend. Surely there is enough for us to share?"_

_Pointing himself towards Evelyns face, he approached her waiting mouth where a thin rope of spittle was looping to the ground in anticipation..._

_To Be **Continued** in CHAPTER 2 OF **THE HARLOT OF ANDRASTE:**_

_**Eagle Eyed Monster**_

As soon as she'd finished, Ali tossed the book aside and lay fully prone, face buried in her crossed arms. After a long minute, she felt him lie down next to her. She both hoped and feared he'd bring up what he'd avoided before, but he didn't. Eventually, she summoned the nerve to look at him. He was lying on his back, arms crossed protectively over his chest as he stared at her ceiling. 

Fine. If he didn't want to talk about it, they had other things to discuss. "Who do you think wrote it?"

Cullen sighed, a long slow exhale that seemed to start from somewhere around his knees. "I have an idea but..."

"Who?" Ali rolled up onto her side. "It has to be someone who knows about the dragons, and Hawke. I thought maybe Varric, but his stuff is better than this."

"A lot better." He rolled over too and looked her in eye. He seemed to be at peace again, and she was glad he'd gotten past his earlier outburst. Well, mostly glad. "I think it was maybe Isabela."

"Isabela?" That made no sense at all. "I thought she was the queen of sex? I think a virgin wrote this story. And why would she write about me?"

Cullen tried to find words to explain his reasoning. "Isabela loves stories, and she loves sex. But... I don't think she's terribly literate. As for the rest of it... she isn't the jealous type, and this is probably her way of... supporting you?" He pulled the book over to him and flipped to the picture on the cover. "Lastly, the harlot looks a lot like her. I don't know for sure, but that's my best guess."

" _Shit_. If Isabela did write this, then Varric certainly had a copy waiting for him when we got home." Ali grimaced at the thought.

"Yup. Which means all of Skyhold is going to know about this by tomorrow." Cullen scrubbed a hand through his hair. "We can try to swear him to secrecy, but..."

"Sooner or later someone else will find out about this." Ali started tidying her hair. "I have to get out in front of this. If it's going to be a joke, then we have to be in on it. Which means..."

"You have to talk to Varric." Cullen concluded with a sigh.

*****

Cullen offered to go with her, but she knew he'd prefer to stay in the War Room. Ali found Varric still ensconced in his cozy chair by the fire in the Main Hall. He was engrossed in writing something, and didn't look up until Ali veered towards him. Based on the look on his face, he knew why she was here.

"Oh, hi there Junebug. What, uh - Did you miss me already?" His eyes twitched around like he was looking for an escape route.

Ever so casually, Ali leaned a hip against the table, boxing him in. "Any interesting correspondence lately?"

Varric seemed to deflate, cockiness fading to resignation. "I swear I didn't know. Rivani sent me a copy and asked for feedback, but she already had a run printed. How did you find out?"

Ali leaned over, invading his personal space and forcing him back against the chair. "My _brother_ sent me a copy. Can you fix this?"

Varric looked scared now and he stammered a little. Gulping, he asked "You read it?"

She nodded.

"Is it bad?"

Another nod.

Varric tented his fingers, considering. "I can probably convince her not to write any more, but I don't have enough pull to keep everyone else off the subject. The Inquisition is hot right now, and after your performance at the Palace, there's a real demand for... uh..."

"Stories about the Inquisitor getting blasted in her exit-rose?" Ali had to clench her jaw to keep from bursting into giggles as as she repeated the worst of the offending phrases.

"Maker's nutsack, did she really write that?" Varric looked professionally wounded. "How bad is this thing?"

"Bad enough that my womanly bits have sealed over. " Ali was thinking hard, but if Varric was right, she was boxed into a corner. "So if someone is going to write this nonsense, it might as well be you."

This was not at all a conversation she thought she'd ever have to have. She glared at the dwarf, who was tapping his chin in consideration. "So I take over this series, and you promise not to give me hell for it? What's the catch?"

"The catch is, you make it not really about me. Make the Harlot into a tiny blond girl, and for the Maker's sake, give her some fucking dialogue. Clean up the smut, do a better job with the names, and try to get some plot in there. Under no circumstances do you get to allude to my family, not even a little bit. If you break any of these rules, I'll tell Cassandra that you had a ghostwriter help you with _Hard in Hightown_. Deal?"

"Hmm... so let's say I agree to do this. What do I get out of it?" 

Was the little bastard trying negotiate with her? Ali reminded herself that Varric wasn't the cause of this whole mess, and she had the power to have him thrown in gaol as it pleased her. She could afford to be generous. "Besides royalties? What do you want?" 

Varric waggled his eyebrows. "I want you to answer three questions of my choosing. No lying, no dissemination, no omissions. Just the full and honest truth about any three things I want to know, at a time to be determined by me."

Ali stared at him coolly through her narrowed eyes. She needed his help, but not that much. "One question."

"Two."

She shook her head, unwilling to compromise. "One question, and I'll take care of that magister that you accidentally released into the wild.

The reference to Corypheus made Varric concede. "Fine, fine. Its a deal. Now go away and let me get to work. Writing smut is hard work." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally agree with Varric by the way - writing bad smut is really hard, but really fun. This chapter is inspired by all the terrible bodice-rippers from teh 1980's that my local library still has on the shelves. (Of course I read them - they're hilarious.)
> 
> This fic just passed 10,000 hits and I'm totally overwhelmed. *sniff* And don't worry, we're returning to the Cullen and Ali show soon.


	40. Chapter 40

As soon as Ali went out to talk to Varric, Cullen left the War Room by way of the basement, cutting through the dark corridors and out through the kitchen. He hoped she wouldn’t be offended that he didn’t wait for her, but the whole evening had left him terribly off balance and he found himself craving a moment of silence to reorient himself.

He took the long way back to his office, climbing up to the battlements and walking slowly along the walls. The view from Skyhold was impressive at the worst of times, but tonight, a fresh dusting of powder glittered under the starlight, transforming the whole world into a fairyland. Leaning against the wall, he looked out over the bridge and tried to work through his roiling mind; letting the clear expanse of white soothe his troubled thoughts.

He knew the source of his discontent - that blasted time on the roof. It should have been embarrassing, dry humping through clothes like a couple of youngsters, but it hadn’t been. For all the times he’d ever been with a woman, not a single one could compare to the sensation of his best friend writhing on his lap. When she’d leaned over to bite his scar, he thought his heart was going to stop. Their rule said _no kissing_ , but she’d danced right up along the line, and Cullen knew that he would never, ever forget the way her breath had felt on his mouth, that for a tiny second he’d almost gotten to taste her.

And then it had gotten even better - for all the beautiful things he’d ever seen, nothing matched the way her face had looked - slack in ecstasy, fireworks blooming across her hair, eyes locked on his as she fell apart in his arms. He’d gotten to hold her, feel her go boneless over him, pressing herself into his neck, aiming for more contact, more skin. For a moment, he’d hoped they would turn to stone like that, spend the rest of eternity wrapped around each other in an afterglow. It was a foolish thought, and he had no intention of sharing it with her, so he’d gone for the easy joke instead.

But then there were bandits, and even now, weeks after the fact, he clenched his fists at the thought of them. It wasn’t that they’d threatened her, or injured him. Cullen had no illusions about the kind of lives they led, and for all his fussing about Ali’s safety, he knew that she faced horrible threats every day with a smile on her pretty face. No, what made his blood boil was the fact that the bandits had interrupted them at all, that for even a second, he’d had doubts about getting out alive. If he hadn’t have had a dagger - if Ali had been forced to use the Anchor in her magically exhausted state, their story could easily have ended as a footnote to history, the two stupid lovers caught in an unguarded moment, sucked away into the Void like they’d never existed at all.

In the weeks since The Winter Palace, he’d turned this over and over in his mind. It was a strong reminder why they had lines at all, why they weren’t having the conversations they should be having, why he didn’t just say _hang the bet_ and kiss her soundly on the walls for everyone to see. She was the Inquisitor, and they were at war. There was no time or space to do things properly, so they would have to be content with whatever stolen moments they could eke out of their friendship. Maybe when this was all over…

Cullen cut that line of thought off with a punch to the wall, the hard stone scraping his knuckles through his glove and grounding him back to reality. He’d gone over this with himself, time and time again. There was no sense in thinking about what might come after - not when there was no guarantee that there would be an after. They’d been at Skyhold for nearly a year and there was no sign of Corypheus, no hint of when the final battle would come. Besides, even if they both made it through, Cullen had every intention of giving her as many choices as possible, to let her choose whatever future _she_ wanted to pursue. It would be best for everyone, for him and Ali and the rest of the Inquisition if they continued with the bargain they’d struck, and didn’t try to push past it.

He grimaced and punched the wall again, enjoying the brief flash of sharp pain. He’d almost blown it all tonight over that stupid story. The book itself wasn’t even a temptation, he’d been unaroused from start to finish, with the brief exception of their conversation about buggery. That was a topic they’d never even approached before, one he’d barely had the nerve to consider in the darkest parts of the night when he was alone with his thoughts

But he shouldn’t have reacted that way, shouldn’t have gotten jealous. She’d been right to call him out for his reaction to Hawke’s inclusion, but she’d misread the reasoning. He’d long since comes to terms with their kissing - had forgiven the man for what he’d done and even become grateful for it. Hawke had kissed her out of compassion, to offer her a lifeline when she was on the brink of an abyss. It wasn’t fair for that to be a joke in a book, something for people to titter over behind their fingers. And yes, dammit, he was jealous - he wished that he’d been the one to help her first, had been strong enough to step up without Hawke having to push him into it.

The night was getting colder, and he was as calm as he was ever going to be. Pulling his cloak up around his neck, he made his way around to his office, nodding to the men and women on guard as he passed them on their rotations. It would be fine, he decided. He would go finish some paperwork and go to bed. Hopefully he would be able to fall asleep without needing to take care of himself, and tomorrow he and Ali could start fresh, putting the Palace and the horrible book safely behind them.

All those plans went to shit as soon as he entered his office. Ali was sitting behind his desk, chewing on a fingernail as she sorted through the papers he had piled into neat stacks. When she heard the door open, she looked up with a nervous smile.

“Cullen, there you are. I wanted to let you know that everything is sorted with Varric.” She shrugged, waiting for his response.

“Oh. That's good then.” He knew there was probably more to it, but no doubt he would hear all about the conversation in the days to come. Once they’d decided not to keep the stupid book a secret, he’d known this would be the talk of Skyhold as soon as word got out. “So why are you snooping through my papers?”

She shrugged again, unconcerned. “Yours are so much more organized than mine, so I thought this would be the fastest way to get caught up. Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“You did?” Of bloody course she’d want to talk about this. Cullen wanted to bang his head against a wall as his sense of calm dissipated. Of course she would want to go over the whole thing, to find out why he’d reacted the way he had, what he thought of the bandit attack, what this whole rummaging thing meant and what they were going to do now. “What do you want to know?”

She stood up from his chair and moved to the bookcase. “I was wondering if you - uh.” Her face was averted, but he could see the edge of her cheek that was slowly turning bright red. “Look, we both know that we need to be more careful after what happened in Orlais. But it was working before, and I’d like to keep going, if you want to. But if you want to stop, then we can.”

“No.” He spoke without thinking, without considering her words. He’d misjudged her intentions in coming here, but the last thing he wanted to do was give her any reason to doubt his interest in continuing the strange sort of friendship they’d built, especially if she had stopped by for a favor. He’d lost track of whose turn it was, but he would be happy either way. “No, I don’t want to stop. But we need to remember the rules.”

“Well that was an easy conversation.” She laughed at herself, turning towards him. “In that case, I wondered if I might ask your opinion on something that’s bothering me. All within the rules, of course.”

She still wouldn’t look directly at him, but he could see that her flush extended down her neck towards the low neckline of her dress. With a start, he realized it was more than arousal, that she was embarrassed and also angry, that where he’d found peace on the walls she was a roiling mess of emotions and had come to him for shelter.

That realization made something clench low in his gut, and his concerns from earlier fled from his mind. Glancing around the room, he noticed that two of the doors were unbolted. The watch wasn’t supposed to cut through here, but he didn’t want to take any chance of being interrupted. As he bolted them in turn, he asked deliberately, “How can I be of service, Inquisitor?” She let out a tiny hiss, and he knew he’d hit the right mark.

“It’s that stupid story,” she explained, toying with the buttons on her dress. “Even outside of the terrible prose, it seems so unfair that Evelyn was only around as a body. She didn’t get to do anything, or be anything more than a series of holes to be filled. I _hate_ that. And… I was going to go to bed, but I couldn’t stop thinking about….”

She trailed off, and for the life of him, Cullen couldn’t fill in the rest of the blanks. Was she going to ask about the buggery again? Or was it the two men at once that had caught her attention? When she didn’t continue, he gave her a prompt. “Lady?”

Biting her lip, she looked towards the door like she was thinking of fleeing, but instead she straightened her shoulders, hands still on her buttons. “Raspberries. I can’t stop thinking about raspberries.”

It took him a second to connect the dots, but then he remembered the horrible metaphor about the Harlot’s nipples. He had an idea about why she was bringing them up, and he really really hoped he was right. “Raspberries?”

“Mmm-hmm. I hate the idea that everyone who reads that book will think they know what my nipples look like, that even that belongs to the Inquisition now. It feels like even my body isn’t my own anymore. I thought that maybe you would… if you wanted…” She trailed off again, looking uncertain.

Oh Maker, he hoped he was right about this. Reaching out for her hand, he asked, “Do you want me to touch your…”

“No.” She stepped backwards, out of his reach and his heart fell. “I don’t want you to touch me at all. I want you to _watch_. _”_

*****

 _Did she just_ \- For an instant, Cullen forgets how to breathe as all the blood in his body races south. Ali is staring at him, pupils blown wide with desire. This is so much better than what he had hoped for, this is something he never could have even considered asking for, and he marvels at her bravery. He understands what she wants, why she is asking for this of all things. She wants to reclaim a part of herself taken in that tawdry book, wants to ground herself in her own body - and she wants him to _bear witness_.

Now it is his his turn to stumble back until his knees hit the bench and he collapses, never taking his eyes off her. He knows he should say something reassuring, but all he can get out is a strangled. “Yes _please_ let me watch.”

Now at last she smiles, and it is a slow sultry grin that stretched across her face. Glancing down at the very visible bulge in his trousers, she licks her lips and starts to unbutton her dress. “Commander, when I said you can’t touch me, I didn’t mean that you can’t touch yourself.”

The thought that she wants to watch him too is nearly enough to end everything before it begins, but Cullen grits his teeth through the wave of sensation and keeps himself together. Without looking away from the slow reveal of her skin, button by button, he tears at the lacings on his trousers.  He is hard already, more than hard, and the phrase _granite monument_ flits through his mind, but he pushes it away.

She is only a few paces in front of him, leaning up against the desk. She’s left the top of her dress unbuttoned, but the fabric isn’t pulled away enough for him to see anything other than the very edge of one of her breasts. Even that is enough to make his breath come short. She slides her hands down over her ribs, down past her hips to grip the fabric of her skirt. As she pulls it up, inch by inch, Cullen sees that she is wearing long stockings underneath it.

He recognizes the dark wool, remembers watching her knit on them one night in the tavern, totally befuddled by her attempts to explain how exactly she was knitting them both at once. It seemed like magic then, and there’s more magic now as her dress comes up over her knees and he sees the creamy flesh of her thigh above her garters, and he lets out a groan.

“Something wrong, Commander?” Her voice is husky and low, but he hears the order behind her words, and knows that she wants him to share his thoughts. She’s never asked for this before, but he knows she likes it when he talks to her during their assignations, and in this moment, he is more than willing to share.

As her dress creeps up higher and higher, he grips the base of his cock tightly, trying to regain some control of his brain. “I was thinking that you have beautiful skin, Inquisitor. The kind of skin that would show every single mark of my teeth as I worked my way up your legs.” She gasps at that, worrying her lip with her teeth as one of her hands disappears up her skirt.  “It makes me wonder if you’re like that all over, if I could flip you over and see the mark of my hand on your ass.”

“Oh, _fuck_ …”A shiver quakes down her whole body and she arches her back. The sides of her dress gape open, and for the first time ever, he can see her tits. They are perfect, better than anything had imagined, even in her sinful dress at the ball. Vaguely, he remembers his brother saying _Anything more than a handful is a waste_ , but Cullen has very big hands and all he can think of is how his they would look wrapped around her breasts. But then her hand is there, the other one still working between her legs. He can’t stand the waiting anymore, and as she slowly circles a finger around her taut nipple, he starts working his hand slowly over his cock, pumping in time to her movements.

“Tell me where this spanking would occur, Commander? When you think of it, am I here on your desk? Bent over the War Table? Or maybe I’m a rebellious mage in one of your Circles, and you have to beat the blood magic out of me?”

That last one doesn’t escape his notice, and he tucks it aside to consider later, never having considered that she might have that particular fantasy herself. For now, he can’t even try to come up with anything other than the truth. “In the Chantry. The one that blew up in Kirkwall.” She’s tucked her leg up on a chair, and he has a clear view of the two fingers disappearing in and out of her curls. It nearly undoes him, and he pumps his hand faster. He wishes their positions were reversed, that it was her finger swiping over the head of his cock, and his hand gripping her breast, pulling at her nipple, rolling it under his thumb.

“I think about you in the Chantry, prone before the altar. I’m making you say the Chant as I fuck you slowly. You can’t come until you get to the end, but every time you make a mistake I slap your ass hard and make you start over.” She shudders again, eyes wide and lips parted. She abandons her breast and brings her hand back down, working over her nub while she adds another finger. The thought of how tight she must be around _three_ fingers nearly derails him, but he can’t stop talking now.

“You almost make it to the end, but you miss a word and I strike you again. You start to plead, begging me to fuck you harder, to let you come. When I don’t, you push back against me, and then you’re on top, pinning me down and taking your own pleasure from my cock. As you ride me, you say the entire Canticle perfectly, like you could have done all along. You’re hot, and you’re tight, and you’re _mine._ ” The last word comes out as a growl, and its enough to push her over the edge and she comes - back arched, head thrown back and thighs clamping together around her hand. It’s just in time - his control was nearly gone and he is grateful to let his own orgasm break over him, blanking out his mind in a frissure of ecstasy.

When he settles back into himself, she has too. As he wipes his hand awkwardly on his pants, she does up the last few buttons and slides off the desk. He wants to reach out to her, pull him down on his lap and brush the sweaty hair off her forehead, but he knows that isn’t what she wants. Instead, he stays seated, waiting for her cue.

Ali takes a few more minutes to tidy herself, preparing for the walk back to her quarters. Finally, she turns to him, looking every inch the noble Inquisitor. Before she goes, she puts her hands behind her back and leans in close to his ear, carefully avoiding any contact.

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, the Champions of the Just.” Even though he is totally spent, her soft breath and whispered words are enough to send a shiver of lust down his spine. She straightens back up and raises an eyebrow at his expression.

He hates this part, the awkward leaving after any of their ‘favors’. Instead of trying to find pretty words to send her away with, he just nods. “Good night, Inquisitor.”

That seems to suffice, and she smiles lazily at him. “Good night Commander.”


	41. Chapter 41

If there was one thing Varric Tethras knew, it was the power of a good story.

He'd lived through it once already during all those long years in Kirkwall, watching the narrative unfold around him. There were times he could almost see the words being written by Hawke's actions, black text laid over black hair. Sometimes they were glorious - a dagger swipe across the Arishok's throat, and an ascension to Champion. Sometimes they were tragic - a broken man sobbing over a mother's desecrated corpse, the last piece of family falling away into the Void. The best times were when they were full of love - a plate of copper marigolds or a pirate's lusty look fading into adoration, lives wrapping around one another to build something entirely new.

In his heart of hearts, Varric loved love stories more than all the other kinds of tales he could possibly spin.

Which is why he was so damn befuddled by the story he had been watching for months. There was just no way that they weren't in love! The story was classic - he was a handsome tortured man atoning for his past sins, she was a freshfaced mage with a destiny given from on high. They were clearly fated for each other, to start up a love story that would span the ages and fill a thousand pages of a sure-to-be bestselling novel. He'd seen it so clearly back at Haven, when Cullen came to the fire to give that useless apology. Varric had almost expected the Herald to throw herself into his arms right there, but all she'd done was yell at him.

It was enough to drive a dwarf mad.

When she left to fight the archdemon, he'd said farewell like she was a sister, not like his true love. When Hawke had kissed her in the tower, Cullen didn't even try to challenge the man to a duel. Time after time, he'd seem romantic moments pass by them like they didn't even notice! Instead of kissing passionately and declaring their undying love, the two of them were friends. Sodding, nug humping, no-story-there _friends_. Varric had had such high hopes for the Winter Palace - surely formalwear and dancing would be enough to push them over the edge, but no. They had disappeared together, sure, but instead of coming back redcheeked and giggly, they'd come back exhausted and injured from fighting common bandits, of all things.

He'd just about given up when he saw the letter from Isabala, full of excitement that she'd actually gotten something published. True, it was utterly terrible, but after his conversation with Alinora, he hoped that reading the drivel might have inspired some sort of lusty feelings. Over the next few weeks, Varric watched Cullen and Ali like, well like a Hawke.

But there was nothing. They behaved like they always did - full of amicable teasing and long conversations about the state of the Inquisition. The only pushback he'd seen from the horrible smut was a new propensity to call each other 'Sunbeam' and 'Sweet Roll'. During breakfast one morning, Cullen had tossed a raspberry down the front of her shirt, but instead of lapsing into maidenly giggles, Ali had simply dug it out and squashed it into his hair. When their friends tried to tease them, they joined into the fun with nary a blush to be seen.

Honestly, there wasn't a scrap of romance in the pair. Ali left on a series of short trips, but neither she nor the Commander ever gave any sign of pining for the other one. One one of her trips out to the Hinterlands, Varric had even gone so far as to go through her correspondence, but the only notes he found from Cullen were dry and businesslike, with no sense of impropriety about them.

Varric was beginning to lose hope. He'd discussed it with all the rest of the inner circle under pretense of perfecting the betting odds. The general consensus was that the two of them would have been perfect for each other,  but Cullen had missed his window to kiss her madly, and they were doomed to be best friends forever. There were a few outliers - Bull had just laughed at the question, and Cole wouldn't answer him at all.

In desperation, Varric had even considered the possibility of them having a secret affair. It seemed like the only plausible explanation - though how Curly had learned to school his face so well was anyone's guess. That had to be it, Varric decided, they had to be going at it like bunnies in secret. Long sweeping kisses, passionate embraces in the giant bed he'd acquired for her room. That was absolutely the answer, the key to unlocking their torrid story.

Now he just had to get them to admit it, but he found the answer where he always did - Wicked Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very short chapter. The back half of this should be up soon, but my boss doesn't understand the demands of fandom, and I must work like the proverbial salt miner for the rest of the week. 
> 
> And Varric is so very close to the answer, but he is suffering from a failure of imagaination. Who knows what Wicked Grace will have in store...  
> (Well, I do, obviously.)


	42. Chapter 42

Wicked Grace was _fun_.

Ali hadn’t played cards seriously since she’d left the Circle. They occasionally played a hand or two on the road, but it was nothing like this. A big group of friends gathered in the tavern and playing for proper high stakes, letting go of the worries of the world in favor of just one more round. Stories were traded and beer was consumed, and she could think of nothing she liked better than nights like this.

Well, almost nothing. Across the table, Cullen was telling the story of a very unfortunate Templar recruit. She’d heard it before, but it was fun watching him tell it to the group, even if he was fudging the details to make it seem like he hadn’t been the recruit in question. He’d told her the true version, one late night in his office, and she could still remember the way she had blushed at the thought of a very naked seventeen year old Cullen marching through the dining hall. If that had happened at her Circle… well, it was better not to think about the mischief she would have managed if there had been a Templar like him around when she was growing up.

“You in or out, Junebug?”

Varric’s voice interrupted her musings, and Ali realized she’d lost track of the bets. Shrugging, she tossed her cards down. “I’m out. And I believe it’s our professional storyteller’s turn to regale us with a tale.”

He took the bait, launching into a well rehearsed tale of Hawke’s wyvern hunt with a Quanri spy. Ali had heard this story before too, so she took the time to organize the piles of coins in front of her and evaluate the other players. She was clearly at a disadvantage here - while she knew the rules of Wicked Grace just fine, she wasn’t anywhere close to the player Varric or Bull was. Josephine was talking a big game about her own inexperience, but Ali was pretty sure that was a feint. She made a mental note not to go up against the Antivan on any big bets. Cullen seemed to be doing reasonably well - it turned out he had an excellent face for Wicked Grace with virtually no tells.

It was a good thing he had no tells, or the jig would have been up ages ago. Ever since news of that blasted book had gotten around Skyhold, there had been extra scrutiny on the pair of them. Everyone seemed to hope that they would give in to base animal passion, and start going at it like rabbits on the dinner table. Ali was getting a little tired of all her interactions being public, of her life being open season for gossip. She and Cullen had no choice but to continue as they always had when around other people - just best friends and nothing more.

Not that every interaction was public - though they’d had to be extra careful, there had been quite a few more favors exchanged since the story broke. The morning after their interlude in his office, she’d awoken mortified - utterly humiliated about what she’d asked him for. She’d slunk down to breakfast, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t be there. Luckily, her prayers went unanswered and he was sitting in his usual place, coffee already poured for her next to him. As soon as she saw him, all her embarrassment drifted away and everything felt normal again.

Not that anything was normal, exactly. A few days later, Cullen had followed her to her room under pretense of help with a report. The second the door closed behind him, he had her pinned up against the wall and her pants undone, demanding to know exactly what she had meant when she’d said _beat the blood magic out of me_. She’d responded with a roll of her hips and whispered ‘make me’, so he’d proceeded to do just that. With one hand pinning her wrists to the wall, and his other hand torturing her by circling around the place she desperately wanted his fingers, she hadn’t lasted long before she was spinning the whole fantasy out in a breathless voice.

_The demon from my Harrowing is trying to come into the world through me, so the Templars assign you to make sure that doesn’t happen. Every night you come to my room and you fuck me until I can’t take it anymore and I beg you to please let me come. You don’t like me and you’re just doing your duty, so you never let me forget that I’m just a mage, that I have to do whatever you tell me to do. Every night you do what you want to to wear me out and use me up and..._

She would have gone on, but that seemed to satisfy him and he finally moved his fingers and she forgot about the rest of it. When she finally came, Cullen Silenced her, and the sudden display of his Templar abilities made it even better, leaving her weak and shaking against the wall. She’d thought he would leave then, as was their habit, but instead he held her close and kissed her forehead, asking if that was okay.

Of course it was okay, and she told him so, told him that it was better than she’d hoped for. Two days later, she’d gotten him back after breakfast by working her hands over him as roughly as she dared while sweetly hissing Transfigurations 12 into his ear until he came, gasping and shuddering and falling to his knees. That time it was her chance to to draw him in and hold him close, enjoying his boneless weight sprawled over her lap.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend that this was enough, that they didn’t both want more. Every night in Skyhold, she waited until he put out his lights before she went to bed, just like she always did. She used to do it in case he needed her, needed support as the lyrium sapped out of his system, but that wasn’t why she did it now. Now she just watched the light dim in his tower and wished she could go to him.

Standing on her balcony, Ali knew exactly how it would happen. It took two hundred and fourteen steps to get to his door from hers, and from there, it would be a matter of seconds to go up his ladder and climb into his bed. He wouldn’t be asleep yet, but his sheets would already be warm as she slipped beneath them. She would tell him that nothing else mattered except for having him, loving him, belonging to him, and she knew he would say the same and that he would finally, at long last, kiss her properly. It would be perfect, and wonderful, and the best night of her life. And then morning would come, and with it would be the stark reminder that there were other things that mattered, other demands that had just gotten a hundred times harder. It was selfishness that made her want to go to him, and selflessness that made her resist every night.

“Inquisitor, are you in or out?”

Josephine's soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and Ali realized she’d drifted again. This time, she blindly threw three coppers into the middle of the table and resolved to pay some damn attention this time.

*****

Paying attention didn’t help. Josie had been sharking them, and it was so much worse than Ali had expected. In a few short hands, she had been reduced to less than what she started with - one more bad round would wipe her out.

Blackwall seemed to be the only one who could read Josie at all, so Ali decided to only go in when he did. Everyone else at the table was also playing conservatively - everyone except Cullen. With a few quiet words, Josephine had gotten his competitive streak going, and Ali knew there was no way he would back down until he won, or lost everything.

He lost everything.

Under other circumstances, a naked Cullen in the tavern would have been a very good start for a fantasy, but the real life version was less erotic and more, well, hilarious. He was so damn disgruntled at leaving all his money and clothing that Ali couldn't help but join in the laughter and teasing.

Cassandra was the first to break, and she announced that she would be leaving before she had to watch Cullen slink back to his office. Of course Dorian announced his intention to stay, and Ali was right about to make a ribald comment when Varric piped up. "Junebug, I have a question for you."

Still laughing, Ali turned to the dwarf at the head of the table. "Sure thing, my friend. What's up?"

The look on Varric's face was predatory in its anticipation, and Ali suddenly remembered the deal she'd made with him. One question, answered honestly, at a time of his choosing. Oh _nugshit_. More seriously, she asked again. "You cashing in?"

Varric nodded, and leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the power he had as  everybody stopped and looked at him. "Friends, our dear Inquisitor owes me an answer to a question, and I am going to collect. I've given this a lot of thought, and here's what I want to know - of the two of them, using examples to illustrate your point, who's the better kisser - Cullen or Hawke?"

 _Oh fucking nugshit_. This was the last place she wanted to talk about this, in front of a room full of her friends and with Cullen sitting across from her - naked, of all things. Ali prayed for strength and forced a smile onto her face. "That's your question Varric? You sure you want to waste it on this?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

Ali looked around the table and noticed the curiosity on everyone's faces. Clearly, they'd all heard about Hawke, and all assumed that she and Cullen had kissed at least once. Only Bull looked uncomfortable, which tracked perfectly as he was the only one who had any notion that there might be something to tell. Cole looked worried, and Ali knew she couldn't lie - the spirit would keep her secrets, but only as long as she was honest.

She met Cullen's eyes across the table and saw the smile lurking there. He'd taken no offense to the question, and look just as relieved as she was by the exact phrasing Varric had used.

Ali stretched, propping her hands behind her head. "Well, it's an interesting question Varric. I can tell you that Garrett is a lovely kisser. His breath was very fresh, and he didn't overdo it on the tongue. Really a very pleasant experience. As for Cullen..." She paused, stretching out the silence.

"Well?!?" The exclamation came from Cassandra, who immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as the whole table laughed.

"As for Cullen, if you'd like to know what he kisses like, you should probably ask the only person here who knows from experience. Dorian?" With perfect timing, Cullen turned his attention to the mage and started batting his eyelashes.

"No way!" This time, the shout came from Varric as he stood in shock, pointing a shaking hand at Ali. "You promised me the answer to a question. You can't say that you've never kissed him!"

Ali put her hand up in a pacifying gesture. "Look, Cullen kisses me all the time, but not in the way you mean. You've all seen him do it before battles, right?" Around the table, there were nods of recognition at their little ritual. "But if you mean has he ever put his lips on mine in a romantical kind of way, then no, we never have. Really, I would tell you if we did. I know there are bets riding on this."

That shamed him, a little, and Varric sat back down. "It isn't about the bets, Junebug. But you have to be kissing somebody, and if not him, then who?!?" He scowled around the table, and Ali laughed at his fierce expression.

"Lovey, Hawke is the last man I've kissed, and I haven't had sex since before the Conclave. I promise." Ali kept laughing, while internally she began to panic. If Varric kept asking questions, she wouldn't be able to skirt around this for much longer. Under the table, she felt a bare foot press down on one of hers - Cullen, showing his support, like always.

"Why aren't you in love with him?" Varric's exasperation was unabated. "Look at him, he's all manly with the rippling muscles and the really good hair? Any woman would be proud to have him in her bed? Why not you?"

Embarrassed even beyond his nakedness, Cullen hid his face in the table, shoulders shaking with laughter. Ali saw her opening and grabbed for it, hoping this would be enough. "Varric, for the last time, I am not having sex with Cullen, but I'm starting to think you might be."

The whole room erupted into even more raucous laughter and Varric turned bright red under the scrutiny. "Fine. That's just fine. But don't forget you owe me the rest of the answer if you ever get it." Shaking his head, he started to gather up the cards and shuffle. "One more round everybody?"

Across from her, Cullen was pounding on the table with his fist, but he managed to croak out an assent. Ali shrugged, deciding to take a chance on winning back his clothes for the man that she absolutely could never ever kiss now. "Yeah, deal 'em out. I'm feeling lucky just now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, they have rules for a reason...
> 
> The line about "not having sex with Cullen, but starting to think you might be" is a line from Buffy. There are probably other Buffy lines throughout this whole fic, because I pretty much think in terms of Buffy all the time. 
> 
> Hopefully this clarifies some of Ali's thinking a little bit. Also, Bull knows the whole story - he just really really doesn't think it's his business to meddle in, because Bull is the tops.


	43. Chapter 43

There had been a very brief period of time when The Iron Bull had been utterly infatuated with Alinora. It wasn't long, maybe two weeks all told. They'd still been in Haven, and he'd been so damned charmed by the polite little noblewoman with her bright eyes and big breasts. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her - liked the way she swore in her pretty cultured voice, liked the way she asked questions and listened to his answers, liked the way she was always moving, fidgeting, singing and laughing. He wondered what it would be like to take her to bed, wondered if she would have that much energy all the time or if she slept like a rock. He started thinking of ways to find out.

It was why he'd gone to talk to Cullen the day he'd called her spoiled. As soon as Krem brought back the news, Bull knew he couldn't let it stand. The Commander seemed like an alright kind of guy, but no way was Bull going to let him talk to his Boss like that. As he talked to the other man, he'd seen something unexpected in his face - some kind of flitting admiration and pride at the news that Alinora wasn't spoiled, and Bull had regretted not taking his chance to hit Cullen back.

By the time Ali'd left for Redcliffe, Bull's brief crush was fading, and the last dregs of it were stomped out the second he'd properly met Dorian. He still watched Cullen though, still wanted to make sure he wasn't going to be bad to his Boss. To Bull's utter shock, it turned out that Cullen was a better man than he ever could have guessed - that he never pushed his luck, never tried to manipulate Ali, and was just an actual, genuine friend to her.

It had been a joy to watch their friendship bloom over time, watch them both learn to care for the other. She saved him from Haven, he carried her out of the snow. He plotted to build her a home, she schemed to keep him off lyruim. Bull knew Ali loved him and Dorian like they were her brothers, but she loved Cullen more, loved him like he was essential.

Despite the bets that Varric took, Bull really didn't think they were romantically involved at all. They were both blushers and he didn't think either of them could lie worth a damn. Besides, they were both so pretty, if they were going to hook up, wouldn't it have happened right away? He'd been proven wrong at the Winter Palace, when he'd had to bring Cullen inside and realized there was more on him than just blood. The curiosity had almost killed him, but he'd held it in until the man came to him and explained in a few brief sentences what the deal was.

It made no kind of sense - this deal of theirs. Sure, everybody needs to get their cork popped once in awhile, but they were leaving out the best parts with the no kissing and no sex. There was no rule against cuddling, but Bull would have bet all his money that the two of them didn't cuddle for shit. They both wanted to, that much was obvious. There was no sense tying yourself up in a knot with all these rules if you didn't want even more of it. When he asked Cullen why they didn't just give in to it all, he'd just looked at him with infinitely sad eyes and said _I don't want to lie about her_. All at once, Bull understood.

He played it out in his head like a game of chess - Knight finally taking Queen, the Commander, finally kissing the Boss. She would smile after, one of her wide grins that crinkles her eyes; while Cullen would stammer and blush at what he'd just done, but they would kiss again and again, finally and properly in love.

A winning gambit for sure, at least for the next few moves. Sure there would be teases and told-you-so's, but Bull knew he and Dorian could protect them from the worst of it. The bets would have to be settled, but the dwarf would handle that. Even the nobles could be addressed by Lady Montilyet and the Nightingale - if nothing else, the Winter Palace had proven that a star crossed love story never went out of fashion.

But they would still lose pieces. Cullen was as brave and strong as any human Bull knew, but if he was publicly revealed as the Inquisitor's lover, their enemies wouldn't hesitate to bring the hammer down on his curly head. If it wasn't a knife in the dark, it would be lyrium in his coffee or a happenstance attack on a farmhouse in South Reach, anything to take him off the board and leave her exposed.

Even for her friends, Alinora had walked through fire, again and again. Bull still remembered the look on her face as she gave the order to save the Chargers. She hadn't hesitated for even a second before she turned her back on a Quanri alliance for a group of rabble she barely knew, all to save a friend from hurt. What would she be willing to do, driven to do, if it was her man in danger? How much of the world would she let burn to pull him from the flames?

And that wasn't even getting into what would happen to the troops. Bull heard a lot from his Chargers, and most of it was good. But there were always rumors - insidious and untraceable. Some questioned why Alinora should be in charge of everything, why a _noble_ _woman_  should get have a say in the disposition of the Inquisition. Bull still remembered the night that Dalish had come back to the camp with a broken nose, having taken on a group of three men. When questioned, she admitted to starting the fight because she'd overheard them speculating if it was safe for the Inquisitor to make decisions when she was menstruating or if she would be too emotional to do the right thing.

Not all the rumors were about her. Others questioned whether Cullen was even qualified for his role, speculated that he must have seduced Cassandra and Leliana in turn to get his place. If he and the Inquisitor went public, it would be assumed that he was just sleeping his way up one more rung of the ladder - just another power hungry commoner trying to rule over his betters.

Bull almost suggested that they just go for it and keep all the rest of it secret too, but that was no kind of answer. Even if they could pull it off, that would cross the line into a lie of commission, not just omission. The night they'd played Wicked Grace, Bull had seriously considered launching Varric out through a window. His line of questioning, however well-meant, only served to reinforce the necessity of their rules, especially once Ali had promised to tell Varric as soon as the situation changed. But all of that was just window dressing, reasons to hide the real truth of the matter. For no matter how many ways Bull played out the pieces, moved things around, one fact always remained.

To win the game, sometimes you have to sacrifice your queen.

It had nearly happened already, back at Haven, but somehow the Herald had made it out from under the collapsed mountain. None of them ever spoke openly of how close she'd come to dying, but one night in the tavern, deep into his cups, Bull had asked Varric what he thought the odds were of Alinora surviving until Corypheus was dead. Varric had swallowed heavily and looked away, finally muttering _two to one against, and even odds that her survival comes with madness_. If they both knew it, Ali knew it too. Bull could see it on her face sometimes when no one else was looking - she'd stare at something beautiful with an odd sort of intensity, and he knew she was trying to record it in her mind in case she never saw it again.

She always looked at Cullen like that when they rode out of Skyhold. Bull knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Alinora had accepted her own death in a way Cullen never did. She wasn't going to leave him a widower, wouldn't saddle him with the lifetime burden of being the _Inquisitor's lover, poor man_. No matter what it cost her, she would make sure he had a future.

So when the demon called Imshael looked Alinora Trevelyan in the eye and offered her a choice between riches, power or virgins, Bull knew why she laughed at him, and why there was a flicker of pain in her eyes as she spun around with a sword of light, smashing it into the demon's pretty face and scattering his teeth across the courtyard.

Even a demon couldn't give her what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm waiting for the next stage of a work project to start so at any point my life might get nuts and updates will slow down. I'll do my best to keep them coming though.


	44. Chapter 44

Cullen was in the middle of polishing his shield when he heard a clamor outside his office. It could only mean one thing - the Inquisitor had returned, a full two days earlier than expected. Shield forgotten, he dashed onto the battlements and snatched a spyglass from Lieutenant Killeen.

"Wasn't aware you were on this watch, Commander." Despite her teasing, Killeen stepped back, giving him a clear view of the path up the mountain.

"Insubordination, is it?" He growled back mockingly, but there was no real offense taken. Every single person in Skyhold was anxious when the Inquisitor was out on the road, and this trip had been worse than most. The reports from Emprise du Lion sounded like something from a nightmare and Ali had extended her trip twice. Cullen knew he wasn't alone in his desire to see her back safely - although he rather hoped he was alone in the exact reason why he wanted her to come home.

He was surprised to see only three travelers coming up the road. Bull was instantly recognizable of course - even without his horns, no one else could make a horse look that small. Ali was next to him - although she was cloaked, Cullen knew the way she sat a horse. The other figure was also cloaked but it was too big to be Sera, and the dress meant it probably wasn't Blackwall. The stranger had to be the prisoner she'd taken, though he didn't understand why there weren't soldiers helping with the escort.

As he trotted down the stairs and gave the order to open the gate, the tenth bell rang behind him. That was strange too - Ali's usual campsites got her home in the early afternoon or the dead of night. Something was definitely wrong.

Everything got clearer as the trio rode in. She'd pushed back her cloak and was waving to the troops on the walls, but he didn't miss her gritted teeth or twitching eye. Bull, usually the picture of composure, had a vein that pulsed gently in his neck. The prisoner was looking around Skyhold with a haughty look on her lined face - one that clearly meant she found the Inquisition lacking.

"So this is the place you think to bring me? I am not some commonborn tramp you can cow with a few old ruins! I demand to see whoever is in charge of this rabble!" The prisoner managed to somehow sound both whining and imperious, and Cullen realized just why the Inquisitor's nerves looked so frayed.

Bull slid off his horse before it had even stopped completely, tossed the reins towards the waiting stablehand and headed away from the gate with a curt "Boss" to Ali. As he passed Cullen, he hissed under his breath, "Warm and fed. It was a rough one."

Cullen gave a tiny nod and went to help her down from her horse. The blasted prisoner was still complaining, but when she saw him approaching, her wheedling tone turned to... was that supposed to be seductive?

"Ooh, and who's this then? Finally someone with some _proper_ authority. Serrah, there has been a most shameful misunderstanding. Surely you can see that these bindings aren't necessary." She gave a trill, false laugh. "I simply must be taken to Val Royeaux as quickly as possible. I once supped with the Empress's cousin you know - I cannot be held here like a common criminal."

Cullen ignored her for the moment in favor of giving Ali a hand off her horse. Based on the way her knees buckled, she'd been riding for hours. Up close, he could see that her eyes were red with fatigue and she was taut as a bowstring - he guessed that she had only a few minutes left before her control snapped entirely.

Behind them, the prisoner was squawking again - something about how her influence was such that she had to be given the best quarters in the place. Cullen looked at her, then looked back the stress in Ali’s jaw. Recognizing the need for a bit of jackbootery, he pulled the prisoner down off the horse, ignoring her protests of outrage.

Without addressing her, he shoved the woman towards Killeen. “Lieutenant, please escort the prisoner to the dungeon. Inquisitor can deal with her later.”

“I will not be judged by her! She is hardly even a noble! I _demand_ -”

Cullen took two steps forward, bearing into her personal space. She was quite short, and he used that to his advantage, looming over her and crowding her with his bulk. “I assure you, granny, you do not wish to know the alternative.”

Her eyes flared at the insult in his address, and she sputtered for a few moments before getting out, “I insist-”

Stepping back, Cullen drew a hand's breadth of his sword, letting the metal catch the light of the lanterns in the courtyard. Baring his teeth, he looked the prisoner dead in the eyes. “One more word, and you will face judgement before me right now.”

Her mouth closed with a snap, and Killeen wasted no time in hauling her off towards the dungeon. As they left, Ali stepped up next to him and made a rude gesture at the woman’s back.

“Thanks for that. I love it when you play big man.” Though her words were joking, her voice was still empty of everything but irritation.

"Sera and Blackwall?" He asked quietly.

"Back with the soldiers. They'll be here tomorrow, but I couldn't stand any more delays. It wasn’t so bad until Mistress Poulin realized we weren’t going to Orlais, but it's been non stop complaining for the last three days.”

Cullen realized she was shivering a little in the breeze and he remembered what Bull had whispered to him. “Lady, go splash some water on your face. I’ll see to your things and meet you in the War Room in a bit.”

Her brow furrowed  for a moment before she realized what he was really saying. She handed over the horse's reins with a small smile. “Thank you Commander.”

****

Ali sank under the water of her bath and let tiny bubbles from her mouth rise up to join the scented bubbles floating above the water. When she'd gotten to the War Room, it was clear that Leliana and Josephine had already retired for the night. She'd wasted no time in getting into the bath - after months in the frozen wastes of the Emprise du Lion, she had started to think her bones had turned to ice. Lying under the water, she sent a prayer to the Maker to bless Dagna for the gift of unlimited hot water.

She heard the outside door open just as she stepped out of the tub. Cracking the bathroom door open, she peeked out to see Cullen juggling her bags, her staff and a plate. She smiled at his utter reluctance to ever make two trips to carry anything before shutting the door and dressing quickly. Still wringing out her hair, she stepped out of the room in a cloud of steam. "Sunbeam! Did you bring me food?"

He turned from where he was brewing tea and gestured towards the desk. "Of course I brought you food. Did you think I was new?"

Ali didn't dignify that with an answer, being too preoccupied with getting to whatever was on the plate he brought. It was comprised of meat and bread, but that was all she managed to notice in the three bites before it was gone. Cullen was watching her with some amazement - no matter how often she ate in front of him he always seemed befuddled at how quickly her food vanished. She'd tried to explain that her brothers would steal anything off her plate if she didn't eat it first, but it was still a constant source of amusement to him. When the food was gone, he silently handed her a cup of tea. "Cheers. Is the old baggage tucked away?"

The side of his mouth lifted at her description. "Aye, she's all tucked away in the finest cell we have on offer. Leliana's people are going in tomorrow - I gather you want to find out if she has any money?"

Ali took a big gulp of tea and nodded. "She was selling her people to the Red Templars. If she has money tucked away, I mean to get it for their families. The Inquisition will rebuild the town, but I think they'd like to know that there's no profit left for her kind."

"And the woman herself? What do you mean to do?" Based on the tightness in his eyes, he didn't want to ask that question. She knew he hated the idea of public executions and had argued with her quite vehemently when she'd beheaded Erimond. It wasn't that he didn't think it should be done, but rather that she shouldn't have to be the one to do it.

Shrugging, she tossed back the rest of her tea. "Dunno. It'll depend on her defense. I'm leaning towards putting her to work, actually, if I can find a place where I won't have to listen to her."

With a sigh, she set the cup on her desk and dug a packet of documents out of her pack. "You'll want to look at these, I think. We found them in Samson's quarry, and there might be a lead on his location here."

That piqued his interest and he came over to look at them. As he reached around to grab the folder, he placed a hand on her back. Without meaning to, Ali gave a gasp of pain and shied away from him.

The documents were instantly forgotten as he focused on her. "What's wrong?" Without  waiting for an answer, he pulled up her shirt and let out a hiss of sympathy when he saw the state of her side.

The bruise was a colorful one, mottled all purple and green across her ribs and back. It had been nearly numb on the road, but the hot bath had brought feeling back to the area and the pressure of his hand had been sharply painful. Still, she didn't want him to worry. "It's not as bad as it looks, really."

"It looks like Bull sat on you." He stepped away from her and went to her dressing table, rummaging through the detritus until he found a small green pot marked with a healing rune. "What happened?"

"Pride Demon caught me. I had a barrier up, but he went right through my guard. We were out of potions, and by the time I got one it was too late to stop the bruising. Healed my ribs right up though."

She was sure he was going to scold her, but he swallowed back whatever censure was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he opened the pot and scooped out some salve. "Pride demons are terrible. Go sit by the fire, Magelet. This will help."

Ali did as bid, and a second later he was sitting behind her, his warm heads working the cool paste into her swollen back. It was good stuff - Solas had given it to her as a midwinter present - and the potent magic quickly eased the pain to a dull ache.

Cullen didn't say anything else, and she was grateful for it. After three long cold days of listening to that harridan on the road, there was nothing more soothing than a quiet room and a warm fire. Of course, it didn't hurt to have pleasant company - and Cullen certainly qualified as that.

When the last of the salve was rubbed in, he carefully pulled her shirt down and lifted her damp hair free. She expected him to go back to debriefing her on the trip, but he showed no inclination to start talking. Instead, she felt fingers start working through her hair as he began untangling it, section by section. When it was all laying flat and smooth, he astonished her by braiding it carefully, and from the feel of it, in quite a complicated style.

Though she was loathe to break their comfortable silence, she had to ask. "Cullen dear, why is it you know how to do a woman's hair?"

"Umm..." His fingers stilled for a second before resuming their task. "My sister Rosalie was a grand one for playing at being a princess. My mother used to braid flowers into her hair before we went out to play."

"So were you the handsome prince?"

He chuckled behind her, and she could feel his body vibrate with his amusement. "Maker no, Branson was always the prince. Mia was the wicked witch, and I was usually tasked to play a troll."

Ali smiled at the image of a tiny Cullen wielding a club and shouting nonsense at his little siblings. Sometimes she forgot that he hadn't emerged into the world fully grown in armor with a sword in his hand. "We always made Micah pretend to be a giant. He'd wear my Papa's fur hat and stand on a box and say all the curse words he knew."

"I wonder how many children are out there pretending to be Corypheus right now. They'll all be fighting over who gets to play at being you." Hair finished, he smoothed the finished braid over her shoulder. "That look all right?"

She patted the top of her head absently, but everything felt secure. "Just right. Thank you." She thought about getting up and doing some work, but the floor was so comfortable that she couldn't bring herself to move. Instead, she leaned back very tentatively, giving him a chance to stop her.

He did stop her with a hand on her shoulder, but only long enough to swing his legs around her hips and pull her back between his thighs. He held her around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, surrounding her entirely in his warmth. Apparently, he had no more inclination towards getting up then she did.

For a few long minutes Ali just sat there, reveling in the feel of him wrapped around her, at finally being home and safe and warm. Staring into the fire, she toyed with the end of her braid, wondering how it was possible that she had someone like this man in her life - how she could possibly be so lucky as to have found him, and so unlucky that she couldn't have him.

She thought back over the time since the Conclave, wondering how she had come to be in this place. She remembered how little she'd liked him upon first meeting, but there was no way to pin down the change in her feelings, first to friendship, then to... something else.

It was before all the rummaging had started, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. Before the Winter Palace, before Adamant. Before she'd learned about the lyrium, before he'd given her the gift of the room they sat in now. Haven, she decided. It must have been just after Haven, when she awoke to learn that he had saved her from the blizzard, then kept the camp safe from her uncontrolled magic. If she had to pick a moment when she should have known she couldn't live without him in her life, it was that one.

The thought of that camp spurred another question and she was too tired to keep her curiosity in check. "Cullen, why don't you ever sing?"

"Hmm? Why don't I what?" He sounded distracted, and she wondered how closely his thoughts had been mirroring hers, and for the thousandth time she damned the fact that there were some things that they had to keep off limits.

"Sing. Why don't you? I know you can - you joined in with Leliana and Mother Giselle after Haven. You have a lovely voice." She badly wanted to turn around and see his face, but it was so pleasant to have him hold her that she couldn't summon the energy to move.

He tilted his face into her neck, but she could feel his smile against her skin. "I do, sometimes. Just not in public, and not on request."

Ali bit her lip for a moment, then said quietly, "I sang for you."

He stayed silent, breath puffing gently across her neck. Then he slowly lifted his hands and traced down her arms before interlacing his fingers over hers. "That you did Magelet." His head was still next to her ear, so when he started singing, it was low and sweet and husky and made her melt.

 _Lavender's blue,_  
_Rosemary's green._  
_When I am King,_  
_You shall be Queen._

 _Who told you so,_  
_Who told me so?_  
_T'was my own heart,_  
_That told me so._

 _Lavender's green,_  
_Rosemary's blue._  
_If you love me,_  
_I will love you._

On the last line, his voice faded out into near inaudibility, but it was enough for Ali's breath to come short and for tears to prick at her eyes. Barely able to speak, she managed to murmur, "Cullen..."

He kissed the top of her head very softly and whispered, "'Tis just a song, my lady."

Now she didn't dare turn around to see his face. She knew what he meant, knew why he didn't say it, but she had to bite her tongue to keep the words from spilling out. Once they were safely swallowed, she leaned back into his chest, snuggling as close as she could before whispering back. "I know. It's just a song, and I'm not your lady."

*****

The next morning, Ali awoke alone in her bed to a banked fire. There was a chill in the air, but she was buried under such a mound of blankets that she was cocooned in warmth. She didn't recall falling asleep or being put to bed. In fact, the last thing she remembered was the feeling of strong arms lifting her, and the barest brush of lips against her cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved this song ever since I read "The Ordinary Princess", but according to YouTube it was also in the new Cinderella movie. Either way, I think it's lovely.
> 
> Updates are still going to be slow for awhile. Work is still on my tail, but I have to win bread somehow.


	45. Chapter 45

“For Samson, I’ll make an exception.” Cullen wasn’t sure what he thought Ali’s response would be to his pronouncement, but he definitely wasn’t expecting no reaction at all. This had been a long session in the War Room, and Ali had been uncharacteristically serious as she'd explained the situation they'd found in the Quarry. Leliana's people had spent the morning poring over Samson's letters, and it looked like they had an actual lead on his location. The thought of taking out the former Templar was too much for Cullen to miss out on, so without thinking, he'd declared his intentions of traveling along with the Inquisitor on the mission.

Across the table, Ali crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a long appraising look. Leliana and Josephine seemed a little uncomfortable, and he realized that he may have just overstepped well past the professional lines of the room. Best friend or not, she was the Inquisitor and her word was law. One doesn’t just announce to one’s boss what the plan will be, particularly not over this particular Table.

“Umm, that is, I’d like to join you on this mission, if it would be possible.” He tried to backpedal, but wasn’t sure it had been at all effective. She was still looking at him like he was a stranger, and it was several long moments before she spoke, dismissing the other two advisors.

As the door shut behind them, she held up a hand before he could speak. She didn't look a thing like his friend now - every inch of her reflected power and confidence, the Inquisitor, through and through. “Commander, I respect your drive for revenge, and I’m tempted to accept your offer. I do, however, have a few reservations. First of all, are you able to keep up with us on the road?”

Abruptly, Cullen realized that she might have actual worries about allowing him to come along, and that this wasn’t just a _pro forma_ questioning. The Inquisitor was well known for driving her party hard on the road, not wanting to waste unnecessary time in travel. She changed horses often, usually traveling from dawn to dusk with very few breaks. Every one of her normal party members was used to the pace by now - Dorian had once explained that they all had asses like boot leather. “I am an able horseman, Inquisitor. I will not slow you down. If I do, I will be left behind.”

“Mmm.” She didn't look too worried, and he wondered if that first query had deliberately been an easy one. “My other concern, and I do apologize for this. Will you be able to fight?”

 _Will he be able to fight?!?_ That seemed an entirely unreasonable question, and Cullen felt his anger flare up, sharp and red. “Are you seriously asking me that? You think I can’t fight? What do you think I do all day?”

Ali had the grace to look a little apologetic, but she didn’t take the question back. “Commander, I am well aware of your skill on the training ground, and your ability to be the victor in any ordinary skirmish. But… oh, hang it all, nothing about this is ordinary. If I bring you into this fight, are you going obey me?”

The blunt question took him aback, and he searched for a response. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sighing, Ali leaned back against War Table, looking at him very intently. “Varric almost died in The Hissing Wastes. We were up against a group of Red Templars and Dorian’s barrier faltered. Bull noticed and broke formation, diving in to protect him. But that meant he was out of range of my spells, so I couldn’t keep a barrier up on him, which meant I had to cut over and leave Varric unprotected. The thing is, Dorian is perfectly capable of taking a hit or two. If Bull had trusted the plan, then Dorian would have had a few bruises but we all would have been okay. As it was, Varric took a blow from a Behemoth and nearly lost his arm.”

“Maker. What did you do?”

“Once we had Varric stabilized at camp, I beat the crap out of Bull and gave him the chance to leave my service. He declined, and we haven’t had any problems since. But Cullen - if I take you out into the field with me, I have to be able to trust that you will follow my orders even if you disagree with them. If you have an objective, you need to complete it, even if I am in danger or it means Samson gets away. Can you do that?”

Again, Cullen realized this was a fair question to ask. Although they had fought side by side before, he had never had to obey her in the heat of battle. And really, it was entirely reasonable to assume that he would make her safety a priority, even when it was the wrong decision to make. He was tempted to make a joke about obeying her whims in other ways, but it seemed like a bad idea to bring their rummaging into a conversation between the Inquisitor and the Commander. “I do not foresee that being a problem. You've come home safely after every battle, even the ones where I would have fallen. And if Samson-" He choked on the name, but forced himself to keep going. "If he gets away, I will trust that your decisions are the right ones."

“Hmm.” Her eyebrow was raised, clearly she was still unconvinced. “I’ll give you a chance to prove that you aren’t worried about protecting me. Meet me in the ring tomorrow morning, tenth bell. We’ll see if you’re good enough to ride out with me.”

“What?” Of all the things he’d expected her to say, a challenge was the last thing he would have guessed.

“Practice ring. Prove you can hit me and still keep fighting. C’mon Commander, haven’t you ever wondered who would win if we fought?” Her eyes danced with merriment as she leaned back from the table. “Never considered for a second if you could… take me?”

Just like that, the Inquisitor was gone and Ali was back, his best friend full of flirts and teases. Cullen smiled back at her. “Don’t have to wonder, Lady. Tomorrow morning, you’re going down."

*****

There was no way to keep a fight like this private, so they didn't even try. Josephine drafted an announcement and posted it by the ring. It clarified that the two combatants would be fighting armed with both weapons and armor, but with no access to health or lyrium potions. Bull would serve as referee, with Dorian and Vivienne standing by to cast barriers at the first sign of trouble. Within moments of the sign going up, Varric appeared next to it to start taking bets on the victor.

Cullen soon got tired of his troops bickering about who had to stay on watch and miss the bout, so he made them draw straws. To soften the blow for the losing squad, he slipped them each a shiny gold sovereign. He spent the rest of the day running them ragged, using it as an excuse to let himself rest up for the next morning.

Ali tried to stay out of the hubbub, using it as an excuse to take care of some business in the Undercroft. Dagna had some improvements to make on her armor, but when the little dwarf's questions about the Commander got to be too much, Ali fled to the safety of Solas's solar. She sat on the scaffolding and watched him paint in silence, with Cole standing by to drop a blanket over her whenever anyone approached the room. She took dinner in her rooms and retired early - though her hurts were entirely healed, she wasn't stupid enough to try to face Cullen at anything other than her absolute best.

*****

The next morning, Ali rose as usual, went down to breakfast as usual and found Cullen sitting across from her chair, as usual. The rest of the room was full of people - more than had ever turned up for breakfast before. She was conscious of their sidelong glances, and the hushed cadence of their murmurs as half the Inquisition watched the pair calmly eat breakfast.

"Coffee?" Cullen asked as she sat down. "One lump or two?"

"Two please." Ali answered politely. "I have a long day ahead."

"Oh?" He handed her a cup and tilted his head. "What do you have going later?"

Primly, Ali took a sip and set down her drink. "A bit of bother this morning, then a few letters to write. King Alistair has invited me to Denerim, but I don't think I can spare the time."

Cullen gave an affable nod. "Shame that. Denerim is lovely this time of year. Do remember me to the King, please."

"Of course." Ali cut up a piece of sausage while watching Varric out of the corner of her eye. The dwarf was sidling along the edge of the room clutching a tiny black book. Apparently the betting wasn't locked in completely. That explained the crowd this morning - everyone was hoping to see one of them looking worried. "Any word on the spread?"

Cullen shook his head. "No one can agree. Even odds on each of us winning, with a small percentage saying we'll both drop dead of exhaustion before there's a victor."

"Well, that's flattering, I suppose." Ali returned her attention to her breakfast, determined to look like this was like any other day.

"Care to make a wager, Lady?" Cullen's voice was light as he carefully buttered a piece of toast.

Ali's lips curved into a smile as she took in the man across from her. As far as she knew, Cullen never bet on anything, but she liked the idea. There was no telling who would win this fight - as far as she could tell they were evenly matched. The thought of losing didn't bother her one bit - there was no shame in losing to the highest ranked warrior in the Inquisition, and winning wasn't the point of this particular challenge.

There was no sense in betting money, or anything else tangible. In fact, there was only one forfeit Ali was interested in winning from him. She'd been in Emprise du Lion for months, and as lovely as the other night had been, there'd been no rummaging to speak of. "Loser owes a favor."

Something shifted in Cullen's eyes and his pupils dilated a little. He leaned across the table to whisper in a low voice, "With their mouth."

He leaned back and picked up his coffee, licking his lips absently and looking for all the world like he hadn't just proposed the best thing ever. They'd never even broached that subject, but the thought of it tempted her to drag him across the table and tear off her pants, spectators be damned.

Ali schooled her face to impassivity, but inside she was quaking as she watched his tongue flick across his scar. _Hell with this,_ she thought. _I'm gonna win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending on a Firefly quote, just the way I like it. 
> 
> I know this is a short chapter, but I wanted to get something up today. The fight is next up, and I hope to get it up tomorrow, but fair warning that it may take longer.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got a little violent....

Cassandra grunted as she slid the last buckle into place. Stepping back, she looked Cullen up and down with a professional eye, looking for weak points. "Check the fit."

Cullen shrugged his shoulders and twisted at the waist, but everything moved smoothly and none of the joints pinched at his skin. "Perfect. Thanks Seeker."

Although he wore his breastplate every day, he'd taken Cassandra up on her offer to play squire. He'd never fought Ali directly before, but he'd heard the stories and seen her train often enough to know that this would be a hard won victory - if he managed to win at all.  

The thought of winning nearly made him blush, and as Cassandra turned her back to fetch his shield, he indulged himself in thinking of it. He thought of what Ali might look like spread across a bed, wet and wanting for him; thought also of her dark hair glimmering in candlelight as she she knelt in front of him like a penitent. He would fight a hundred mages for the chance to know what she tasted like, and a hundred more to get to have her pretty mouth wrapped around his...

"You need to end this quickly." Cassandra's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he tried to focus. "She is accustomed to fighting slow opponents and she won't be expecting speed. In a crowd like this, she won’t use the Anchor, but she won't rely on her spells either - even if you manage to Silence her, she's picked up quite a right hook..."

"Relax Cass." He took the shield with a smile. "I know how to fight mages. You're the only person I lose to, and I plan to keep it that way."

Any response she had was preempted by the arrival of Ali and Solas. They stepped out of his solar, and Cullen gave her a once over - purely to size her up as an opponent, of course. She was wearing her 'good armor', the stuff Dagna had made her for Adamant. It looked freshly cleaned and Cullen would have bet everything he owned on there being new, powerful runes worked into the leather. Her hair was braided back as tightly as he'd ever seen it - smart of her not to give him something to grab on to during the fight.

Of course, he fully planned on grabbing it later.

He shook off that thought, vowing not to let himself get distracted. Win or lose, one of them was going to end up on their knees tonight, and it didn't really matter who. He had to focus on the point of the fight, remember that Samson was his end goal and he had to prove that he could work past the distractions and treat the Inquisitor like any other fighter.

Ali glanced at him over Solas's shoulder and raised an eyebrow, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She dismissed the elf with a kiss on his cheek, and looked over at him, eyes wide, waiting to see if he was ready to start the match.

"Cass, can we have a minute?" Suddenly it seemed very important to have a moment alone with Ali before they headed out for the ring.

"I don't think that's..."

"Honestly, Cassandra. This isn't the Grand Tourney and you don't need to watch for sabotage." He nodded towards the door. "Go on, we'll be right behind you."

With a last, doubtful look, Cass walked after Solas. Cullen extended a hand towards Ali. "C'mere Magelet."

Ali did as bid and grasped his hand firmly. "Any last words Commander?"

He looked down at her upturned face, noting as if for the first time, the scatter of freckles across her nose. He almost made a joke, but more serious words came out instead. "Alinora, you know this is ending bloody, right?"

"I know." Something dark passed over her expression, but it was gone before he could really notice it. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. Whatever she saw there made a smile slowly unfurl across her face. She almost said something, but seemed to think better of it and shook away the thought. "I've never been afraid you would hurt me, honey. Nothing that happens in that ring is going to change my mind."

Marveling at the way she always seemed to put him at ease, Cullen grasped her chin lightly and drew her in. He kissed her gently on the forehead and drew his head back. "For luck then, my lady. You're going to need it."

She scowled back at him and headed for the door. "Not your lady, loser."

*****

Ali stepped out onto the stairs and was taken aback by the loud whoops that started as the crowd saw her and Cullen. It looked like all of Skyhold had shown up to see the fight - spectators swarmed around the ring, and every spot on the battlements taken by the cheering masses. It was a gorgeous day - warm, but not sunny, and everyone seemed to be making a bit of a holiday out of the morning off work.

Cabot and his employees were circling through the crowd with trays full of tankards and snacks. Varric was still taking bets and Ali wondered how the line was looking. Most of the crowd was cheering for one or the other of them, but it sounded like an even split. To her amusement, Ali noticed that her supporters had bits of green cloth wrapped around their hands, while Cullen’s supporters had scarves and furs draped over their shoulders.

They made their way slowly down the stairs, both waving back automatically to their people. Out of the corner of his mouth, Cullen muttered, "Maybe we should give them a show first?"

Ali gave him the tiniest of nods as she blew a kiss to the Chargers perched on the tavern roof. "Three minutes. Then it's on."

At the ring, they separated and went to opposite sides. Vivienne and Dorian stepped into the ring and headed to their assigned combatant to check them over for hidden weapons. Vivienne gave Ali a long hard look and whispered, "Don't let him Silence you."

Dorian, on the other hand, was too preoccupied to give Cullen any advice at all. He seemed very intent on checking Cullen thoroughly, even going so far as to run his hands around his waistband, then further down. Finally, Bull interceded and made Dorian back out of the ring, explaining that really, anything Cullen had smuggled that deep in his pants wouldn't cause Ali any harm.

The mage made a crude gesture back to his lover, and the crowd lost it. As the laughter faded, Bull raised his arms and bellowed across the courtyard. "No potions, no rules. Loser can tap out at any time - surrender phrase is "KISS ME!"

Across the ring, Cullen met her gaze and rolled his eyes. Ali did the same as they stepped to the middle and shook hands firmly.

"Inquisitor."

"Commander."

And the fight was on.

*****

They started easy. Cullen came at her with the one-two rhythm taught to the greenest of recruits and Ali used her staff just like a good mage should - defense only, knocking away his sword to free up space for spells. They picked up speed slowly, and he gradually increased the complexity of his footwork. Ali kept pace with him, step for step, and he wondered how much it looked like they were dancing. She whirled her staff around in a complex pattern, and he had to bend backwards to avoid getting thwacked in the face a few times. When it was his turn to attack, he did so in perfect dueling formation and she avoided him easily.

The crowd loved it. There was jeering and whooping every time they got close to each other. When she stepped a little too close, Cullen hooked her with his shield and tossed her backwards. She dove straight into a somersault and popped up laughing - Sera’s tutelage no doubt. Not to be outdone, Cullen leapt into a spinning kick - they were too slow to ever land but they looked damn good.

Over the roar of the crowd, Ali caught his eye and winked before she launched another attack. She threw her arms out to the side and fire bloomed from her chest, five long streaks of it headed straight for his face. He caught them on his shield and tossed them upwards, swinging in from beneath. She avoided the blow easily and spun away, adding an extra flourish that made the crowd cheer.

Cullen pressed his advantage, and launched up into what he knew would be a very impressive jump. Ali dodged his falling sword in the nick of time and swung back with staff in an easy measured rhythm that forced him back across the ring.

He parried her easily, and they fell back into their earlier places. Behind them, Bull coughed and Ali’s eyes narrowed.

Playtime was over.

Cullen took the next three blows on his shield before bashing it forwards, sending her reeling. Remembering Cassandra’s words from earlier, he focused his mind to get a Silence up  - it took a lot of energy and cost him precious seconds, but the quick spells she tossed out were easy to deflect off his shield. It didn’t occur to him that she might have prepared for this exact scenario until the instant he saw her swing her staff like a bat at his face.

He could feel the bones crunch in his nose and his whole world turned red as agony splintered across his brain. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken his nose, but dammit, every time hurt worse than the last. Blindly, he struck out with his shield and reeled around. Giving up the Silence as a lost cause, he bore through the pain and struck out, again and again.

Ali was raining blows down on his shield and sending reverberations up his arm. She couldn’t get around it, and he couldn’t get to her. He sidestepped to the right and jabbed around, but his blade just scratched right off her barrier. Frustrated, he hooked out a foot behind her calf and as she fell, he bashed her across the face with his shield. The skin on her forehead split open, and when she pushed up from the ground her face was a wash of blood. Without a second of hesitation she tossed off a wave of frost that sent him flying backwards. There was no laughter in her eyes now, just steely determination as she raised a hand and pressed fire to her own forehead.

Cullen knew Ali had no healing magic, but the sight of her cauterizing her own wound was both impressive and nauseating. Everything else faded into the background - the cheers of the crowd growing distant as his whole world focused in on the woman in front of him. Right now, he didn't care that she was his best friend, or his boss, or the possible Herald of Andraste. All he cared about was proving that he could win, that he was the baddest, meanest warrior on the battleground.

Every time he hit her, her protection grew and he wondered if she was somehow channeling the energy of his blows into her barrier. Conversely, absorbing her blows on his shield didn't seem to help matters much either. _So don't get hit and don't hit her for a bit. Make her work for it_.

Ali had her sword back out and was coming at him with grim determination. With a cocky grin, Cullen tossed his shield towards Bull and gripped his sword with two hands. Ducking under her whirling staff, he lunged at her, forcing her to step back out of formation.

Without giving her a chance to recover, he leapt to the side and lunged again. He was going for speed over power, keeping back just enough to let her dodge his blows. Still, there was no opening for her to thrust back, and he saw her eyes widen as she evaluated her options. A tiny bolt of lightning shot from her staff, but Cullen deflected it off his sword, sending it harmlessly into the ground.

She followed it up with a blast of ice. Catching it on his sword would weaken his grip, so he dropped a shoulder and let the frozen shards slam into his left side. Not ideal, but not crippling either. The next time she managed to cast a spell, something invisible and heavy dropped around his torso. A quick Purge freed his lungs and he didn't let up on his massive swings.

Ali was staring down the edge of panic - her sword was flickering in and out as she started to run low on mana. He almost had he where he wanted her and he wondered if she saw the trap coming.

She didn't. As she backed against the ring, she whipped her staff towards his face as a distraction and stepped sideways to flicker through the fade faster than sight and emerge behind him.

Right into his foot.

As soon as she'd started to blur, Cullen had whirled around and swung out from the hip, throwing all his momentum into slamming his armored heel right where she was heading. As fast as she was in the fade, she didn't have a chance to dodge it.

His foot hit her midsection with a sickening crunch, and her sword immediately disappeared. He'd hoped she would go down from the blow, but although she gagged horribly, she kept her feet, staggering backwards and holding her staff in front of her. He knew the sound meant he’d at least cracked her ribs, and he was impressed at her fortitude - not many mages would keep their footing under such pain.

He couldn't give her a chance to regroup and crowded into her space immediately, going back to the same whirling strokes he'd used before. If he was keeping up with things, she had no sword, no mana, and no way to use her anchor. Only one weapon left - and without magic, her staff was basically just a club and now he knew to avoid it.

Cullen had forgotten one aspect of her staff, and her realized his mistake immediately. Still greyfaced, she whirled her staff around and went for him with the blade at the end, trying to use it as a polearm to adjust for his longer reach. She wasn’t as exhausted as she looked, and with more speed than he thought she had left, she jabbed her staff at the edge of his breastplate. He had to dodge backwards to avoid being skewered, and she took the opportunity to plant a foot on the side of his knee and lay into him with all her weight. His leg buckled under him as his knee bent sideways and agony shot up his leg. Ali went leaping past him, slamming an elbow to the back of his head for good measure.

 _Enough. That's enough_. Before his leg could give out entirely, Cullen dropped his sword and turned. Launching off his good leg, he hurled himself at Ali's back, using his weight to bear her down to her knees. He felt a spell start, but there was no way to get another Purge out. Instead, he ripped her staff away with one hand and wrapped the other one around her throat.

The crowd was utterly silent as they watched their Commander take down the Inquisitor. Cullen couldn't help but remember how Ali held felt two nights ago when he'd held her in front of the fire. Then, she'd been soft and sweet, melting back into him. He held her now in nearly the same position, but there was nothing sweet about her now. She was all fire and steel, and broken nose or no, he had never been prouder to know he served under her command.

Ali had stiffened immediately, but he could feel the tension flex in her shoulders as she tested his grip. Unwilling to wait for her to make a move, he tightened his fingers just a fraction and leaned in close to her ear. "Please don't make me knock you out."

She resisted for another moment before sagging forwards. Turning towards Bull, she said very clearly, "Kiss me you Quanri bastard."

The entire crowd seemed to sigh en masse before half of them started cheering and the other half started booing. Cullen let Ali sag against him, although his injured knee meant that they soon over balanced and went sprawling against the hard packed ground. He could feel his heart pounding from adrenaline and the pain from his knee and nose was nearly unbearable.

A moment later, Vivienne was above him and  cool hands cupped his face and turned it upwards. Quietly, she told him he would have to sleep through the healing. Before she could cast him into unconsciousness, he wrenched his head back sideways to see if Ali was okay. Solas was hunched over her, pouring healing magic into her side. She looked at him and gave a bright - albeit blood streaked - smile.

That was enough to set him at ease and he relaxed under Vivienne’s ministrations. As Cullen lapsed into unconsciousness, the last thing he heard was Ali whispering, “Guess you get to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. I'll try to get back to a more regular schedule, but no promises.


	47. Chapter 47

When Ali regained consciousness she did so suddenly, going from deep sleep to harsh wakefulness in the space of a breath. She was flat on her back and as the ceiling came into focus, she realized that she was not only in her own bed, she had somehow slept the whole day away.

A second later, she remembered the fight, remembered the thud of Cullen connecting with her back and the harsh realization that she had lost, that his hand wrapped around her throat left her no choice but to forfeit. She’d almost had him – a tiny bit more speed and she would have cleared him in her leap, could have taken him out with final burst of mana.

Blinking stupidly at the stone above her, she couldn’t find it in herself to be all that upset about losing. She hadn’t embarrassed herself – actually, she’d done quite well against a man generally considered to be among the best of Thedas’ warrior class. And really, it wasn’t as if the forfeit was so bad, assuming she wasn’t lying here on her deathbed.

In fact, she felt quite good. Just before she’d passed out, the pain in her side had been nearly unbearable, but now it just pulsed with a low throb – nothing that she hadn’t felt often before. Her forehead felt fine too, both the gash and the burn but a distant memory, tucked away under the bandage she could feel on her skin. Idly, she wondered if the wound had healed clean, but raising an arm to check seemed like too much energy at the moment.

Instead, she let her head loll to the right, where a small clicking noise was drawing her attention. To her great surprise, Solas was reclining on her divan, looking quite content as he knitted away happily at a…

“…Tea Cozy?” Ali croaked out, forcing the words out of a mouth too dry of moisture. 

Solas looked up and cocked his head at her before dropping his project and gliding to her side. He poured her some water and helped her sit up and drink. “A hat actually. Though I fear I’ve made it too large.”

“Hmm.” Ali lay back down and gestured towards the pile of wool. She’d taught him to knit over the long days on the road, but he still had some problems understanding how gauge worked. “Leave some holes in the top and give it to Bull. He’ll be thrilled.”

The elf may have been amused at that, but it was frequently hard to tell. Pressing Ali back down, he lifted her shirt and examined her ribs. “You can tell our beloved Commander that he hits harder than a Pride Demon. Three of your ribs were cracked nearly through. I’d recommend avoiding his heel in the future.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Ali was knew they’d torn each other up, but hearing the confirmation wasn’t pleasant. “How is Cullen doing?”

Solas nodded to her other side. “See for yourself.”

Letting her head loll around to the other side, Ali realized that Cullen was asleep in the bed next to her. For all the times she imagined having him here, the reality left something to be desired. He was still covered in the dirt of the arena, though his armor was gone. His nose had been set, but there was tape strapped across his face. His leg was propped up on a stack of pillows – the knee she’d crippled was straight again, but she could still remember the wet pop it made when she launched herself off it and she hoped desperately that all the damage had been fixed.

Turning back to Solas, Ali reached for his hand. “Thank you for putting us back together. I know you didn’t want the fight to happen, but thank you for healing us anyways.”

Solas patted her hand, awkward with her gratitude. “Think nothing of it, da’len. I am pleased to be of service. You needn’t thank me.”

He turned from the bedside and fetched two small vials. “You are healed, but you should drink these. Lyrium for your mana, and a regeneration potion for energy.”

Ali accepted the second, but waved away the glowing blue vial. She tried not to take lyrium in Skyhold if she could avoid it, and she was definitely not taking it with Cullen three feet away. Tossing back the potion, she felt strength gush through her limbs. “Ma Serannas, friend.”

Solas tucked the lyrium away without comment and reached out to peel the bandage off her forehead. “This has healed nicely. You should go easy for an hour or so, but I expect you can make it down for dinner.”

Ali raised an eyebrow at him. “I expect there will be something of a fuss if I do not. What of Cullen?”

Solas glanced across to where he lay. “His injuries were more extensive – well done on that point. He should awaken soon enough. Once he does, the tape can come off his nose. Give him a potion and try to get him to rest. His armor is back in his office, but he shouldn’t try to wear it tonight.”

“Aren’t you staying?” Ali wasn’t sure if she liked the thought of him leaving or not.

Soothingly, he patted her hand. “There is no need. I didn’t want you to wake up alone, but there is no danger to either of you. I must go see about measuring The Iron Bull’s head as I refuse to tear out another project. And besides, I suspect that once you take stock of yourself, you will badly want a bath.”

Ali glanced down to see that she was just as dirt-encrusted as Cullen was, and her shirt had bloodstains on it to boot. Wryly, she nodded at Solas and swung her legs off the bed. “Wise as ever, my friend. I’ll see you at dinner then?”

Solas picked up his belongings and bowed his head. “Of course. I must also go settle a bet – it seems I owe Varric some money.”

Chuffed, Ali grinned at him. “You bet on me?”

He granted her one of his rare smiles. “I always do.”

With that, he swept out of the room. Ali considered Cullen’s sleeping form for a minute, reflecting on the fight and what was to come later. The thought made a small fissure of excitement bubble up in her gut, but she pushed the thought away. Before she could do anything else, she had to get clean.

*****

When she emerged from the bath, Cullen was awake and blinking at the ceiling. He turned his head when he saw her, and Ali was stupidly grateful that she’d thought to put her dressing gown on before she’d come back into the room.

“Hallo magelet.” He didn’t look to be in any pain, but his words were muffled somewhat by the dressing across his face.

“Hallo, Cullen. How are you feeling?” She sat down on the bed next to him, careful to avoid jostling his knee.

“Like I was in a fight. How come you look so good?”

“Because I bathed, numbskull. Which you’re going to do in about half a second, because you’re stinking up my whole room.” She wrinkled her nose at him, then laughed when he rolled his eyes at her. “First though, let’s get this shit off you.”

Very carefully, she worked a nail under the tape and peeled it back, doing everything she could to avoid hurting his skin. Underneath he was clotted with dried blood, and she ran a finger down the bridge of his nose to check the state of it.

“How’s it look?” He did an admirable job of hiding his concern, but she knew he was vainer than he liked to admit.

“Straight as an arrow. Solas does good work with bones.”

“And you?” Now his concern leaked right through his words. He reached up and tipped her face down. “Did I leave a mark?”

“Nah.” She reassured him quickly. “I may have a little line there, but I don’t scar easily.”

“Hmph.” He curled his lip up, displaying his own scar to full effect. “Lucky you.”

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Drink this stupid potion so you turn into a real boy again, please. Then you can shower and we can talk about other stuff.”

Cullen paused with the vial halfway to his mouth. “Other stuff?”

Ali blinked at him, surprised that he’d forgotten. “Yes, other stuff. Samson, Red Templars, Ancient Evil. We’re supposed to go kill some of that stuff, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” He drained the potion, and she was surprised to note a small tinge of red on his cheeks. Apparently he had forgotten about Samson, and thought she’d been referring to their bet. Ali had been planning on settling it later that night, but if he was feeling up for it now, she certainly was too.

Resolved, she bounced off the bed and headed to her wardrobe. “Go on and shower while I get dressed. If you toss me your clothes, I’ll give them a quick clean.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but just shook his head at her and hauled himself off the bed, testing his knee to see if it would bear his weight. It did, so he stumbled to her bathroom and slammed the door shut, leaving her to contemplate the appropriate attire for what lie ahead of her.

*****

The moment the door shut behind him, Cullen sagged against it in relief. He felt fine, physically, but as soon as Ali had stepped back into the room, his heart had started hammering a mile a minute. Why did he suggest such a stupid bet? And why didn’t he make sure she won the fight? Now he had to deal with the actual possibility that at some point in the next few hours, his best friend was going to drop to her knees in front of him and… 

_Oh Maker and Bride, deliver me safe from temptation._

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to do it – on the contrary, just the thought of it had him lit up like a tree at Midwinter. It was just that he didn’t want her to feel obligated to take this next step – he never wanted to take anything from her that she didn’t want to give freely and he couldn't imagine her actually wanting to pay out this wager. 

Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, he undressed quickly and tossed his clothes out to the main room before turning on the shower. He kept it cold, hoping that it would help him focus. It didn’t – all the cold did was make him think about how warm the inside of her mouth would be when it wrapped around his…

_Stop it. Whatever you want from her, she isn’t yours to take. Not if she doesn’t want you._

Eventually he couldn’t delay any longer – if nothing else, his knee was starting to ache from standing for so long. He turned the water off with a decisive twist of his wrists and wiped his face roughly with a towel. Wrapped it around his waist he reached for his clothes automatically – but of course they weren’t there, because he’d stupidly taken her offer to clean them. He groaned at the thought of having to step out of her bathing room in only a towel – it was going to be a lot harder to hide his reaction.

There was no help for it. He couldn’t stay in the bath all night, and surely she would understand that he wasn’t expecting her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with. He would just go out there, grab his things, and head downstairs without bringing up the bet. That would be it. Easy.

Ali was sitting at her desk, head bent over one of her omnipresent bits of paperwork. True to her word, she had changed into clothes - and dammit, it was his favorite of her dresses, the soft one that cut a little low in the front.  She paused in her writing and lifted a hand to her mouth, nibbling at the edge of her thumbnail. The sight of her lips wrapping around her finger was almost enough to undo his resolution, and Cullen knew he had to resolve this matter quickly before things got embarrassing.

When he cleared his throat, Ali looked up, face blank from concentration. Seeing that he wasn’t clothed, her eyes swept up and down the length of his body, and he had to resist the temptation to either hide or preen under her attentions. “Umm… do you have my clothes?”

Ali gestured towards the fire, where a neat stack waited for him. “Clean and pressed, though I don’t know why you need pants at the moment.”

Cullen paused in midstep as her words shot straight to his core. He couldn’t look at her without wanting to beg her to make good on their wager. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and focused on the pile of clothing. “Thing is, magelet, bet or no, you don’t have to… I um…”

Her laugh made him look at her, and he saw amusement in her smile - amusement mixed with desire?

_Oh please let it be desire._  

“You want to call it off? Really?” Ticking off on her fingers, she ran through a few items. “Point the first – bets are serious business in Skyhold. Point the second – I have never in my life welched on a bet. Lastly, I don’t ever take a bet if I’m not prepared, or in this case, excited, to lose. So, unless you don’t want me to…”

She trailed off deliberately and dropped her eyes to his chest, and then lower. She licked her bottom lip, just a little as she walked over to him, slow and predatory. Cullen bit back a groan and readjusted his towel. “Ali, I know that this isn’t something that women typically enjoy…”

She stopped in front of him and cocked an eyebrow. “Honey, if I had won the fight would you have enjoyed going down on me?”

The matter of fact way she put it made his mouth water and he tried hard to focus his thoughts away from the way he was hardening under the towel. “Yes, but…”

“Mmm-hmm.” Slowly, she reached out and trailed a hand along his stomach, rasping her nails along the thin line of hair but stopping just above his towel and creeping back upwards. “So why would it be any different for me?”

He had no answer for that except to stare at her hand splayed across his chest. “Ali…"

Her brow furrowed just a bit and she stepped back. “Commander, you said you’d follow my orders, did you not?”

Cullen struggled to focus, wondering if he’d offended her in some way. “I did. I will.”

“Well then, I _order_ you to tell me honestly if you want me to suck your cock.”

Maker, he loved it when she cursed, when her vulgarity came out in her posh little accent. He swallowed hard and leaned back against the doorjamb as his bad knee threatened to buckle. He had to answer – an order was an order. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” She stood at rest, looking like she had all the time in the world. Didn’t she know that she was killing him by inches?

“Yes, Inquisitor, please suck me off.” Now his knee really did buckle, and her eyes grew wide with concern.

“Right then.” Imperiously, she pointed towards the bed. “Sit down, before you fall down.”

On her bed?!? Ever since the morning after Adamant, they’d avoided ever messing around on a bed – the unspoken agreement being that it would be too close to something real. Still, he couldn’t very well protest right now - she’d given an order, and he had to follow it.

Before he’d even gotten properly settled, she was on her knees before him, looking up through her heavy lashes. He reached out to brush her cheek, but she batted his hand away. “Nuh-uh Commander. I’m in charge here.”

Nervously, Cullen tried to readjust his towel. Why was it so hot in her room? “Very well, lady. What are my orders?”

She bit her bottom lip, and that was definitely desire on her face, he was sure of it. She moved his hands to either side of him and pressed forwards between his legs. “Your hands stay on the bed. Your feet stay on the floor. If you move them, you lose. If you thrust, you lose. If you tell me to stop, I stop, and no one loses.”

Her words took a second to land, but when they did, he shuddered with excitement. This was a game they’d played on a smaller scale before, but never to this extent. He had to sit on the bed, unmoving, and leave himself at her mercy.

For the first time since he’d come upstairs, Cullen smiled. This was spectacular.

*****

Ali was quite grateful for the plushness of the rug underneath her. When Cullen had it made all those months ago, he probably hadn’t been considering the relative merits of blowjob support – but either way, she planned on being down here for a while and the rug made things a lot more pleasant on her joints.

Above her, he still looked a little nervous. She couldn’t blame him – this was a damn intimate thing. If she had won the forfeit, she would absolutely have spun out over all the ways he might judge her from between her thighs.

She decided to ease him into it, and sat back on her heels, evaluating her options. His feet were planted on either side of her, and that seemed like as good of a place to start as any. Besides, she quite liked him barefoot in her quarters, and it didn't happen nearly enough.

Remembering his massage at the Winter Palace, she reached down to start rubbing along the arches of his feet and up towards his ankles. Unsure if he was ticklish or not, she fluttered her fingers over his arches, and he twitched a little in response.

"Sorry," she murmured as she moved back to his ankles. As she worked the tension out of his joints, another thought occurred to her and she looked up at him. “Not to ruin the mood, but do tell me if I hurt your knee at all please.” She moved her hands up a fraction, rubbing at the backs of his calves.

“I think I can persevere through it.” His eyes narrowed a second later and he flinched like he wanted to reach for her. “Honey, what about your throat? I caught you pretty hard, are you sure we shouldn’t wait?”

The fact that he’d said wait, not stop, didn’t elude her notice. She nuzzled into his good knee and let her breath blow over the sensitive skin there. “My throat is fine, Commander Rutherford. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

That had the intended effect and the concerned look in his eyes faded back into a cloud of lust. “Far be it from me to question a lady.”

There were a million retorts she could have made to that, but Ali felt like they’d had enough chit-chat for the moment. As slowly as she could stand it, her hands slid up the long lines of his legs. She stopped at the edge of the towel for a long beat before sliding her thumbs underneath it and swooping them down to the side.

As she moved, she sat up off her heels and arched her back, letting the bodice of her dress stretch tight across her breasts. Cullen was breathing hard now and he let out a little sigh at the sight of her cleavage. Considering that she’d tried on three different dresses while he was in the bath, his reaction was welcome.

The whole time she’d been getting ready, she’d tried to figure out exactly how he would like it. True, she’d gotten him off a few dozen times during their friendship, but it was important to get this one just right. While she’d never been particularly promiscuous in the Circle, she had performed this particular act with more than a few men, and she knew that everyone liked it a little bit differently.

Now, as she nipped her way up the inside of his thigh, she was feeling optimistic that she’d cracked the code – that teasing him was the right way to start out. Between ordering him not to move and massaging his legs, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking. 

Without losing the rhythm of her tiny bites, she moved her hand around to the front of him, just barely grazing her fingertips over his towel covered erection. He hissed when she did, so she did it again, and again, until he let out an incredulous, “Ali…”

_Excellent. Time for phase two._  

Using her other hand, she unwrapped the towel carefully, leaving him utterly exposed on her bed, tipped back on his hands like a gift sent straight from the Maker. She’d never seen him fully naked before and the sight of him made it hard for her to breathe. He was all long limbs and bronzed skin – every muscle a testament to a life spent with sword and shield.

It didn’t seem fair actually, that any one person should get to look like this. Anyone with muscles like that shouldn't also get to have those eyes, or that hair. They definitely shouldn’t get to have a perfectly craggy scar to draw attention to the way their lips drop open in gratitude every time you touch them.

“Lady?” Cullen's voice was beautifully husky and Ali realized she’d been drifting a bit.

Shaking off the distraction, she grasped him firmly around the base of his cock. “I was just thinking that you are the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

He groaned at the contact, but didn’t stop staring at her. “I was thinking that about you.”

She smiled up at him and took a second to let the compliment wash over her. “Really? Because it’s about to get better.”

Ignoring his questioning noise, Ali bent her head and licked her tongue along the bottom of his shaft. She stopped before she reached the head and swiped back to the base, letting him enjoy the heat and wet of her mouth.

Risking a glance upwards, she saw nothing but astonishment and pleasure on his face. “Fuck, Ali, that’s… fuck, that’s good.”

_So not quite complete sentences, but still more than one word. I’ve got some work to do here._ She repeated the swipe a few more times before she brought her hand back into play, working him up and down with the kind of pressure she knew he liked.

When it seemed like he had enough, she drew back all the way and flickered her eyelashes at him. With the very tip of her tongue, she swiped at last along the head of his cock, really tasting him for the first time.

She’d planned to tease him for a little bit longer, but to her surprise, she found that she couldn’t stand to wait. Dropping her lips around him, she took him into her mouth, reveling in the feel of him on her tongue.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” It sounded like he had finally been reduced to a single word, and Ali laughed at it, letting the vibrations travel up her body and into her mouth. Maker, but she was happy to be here, happy she’d lost the fight, happy to get to spend an afternoon getting him to make noises like that.

A few seconds later, she stopped for air and tossed her head back, still working him over with her hand. He’d stopped saying anything and had started doing something between a whimper and a growl. Every muscle in his body was corded with tension, and his jaw was clenched so tightly she worried for his teeth.

Ali realized that he hadn’t moved an inch this whole time, that he was following her orders no matter how much control it took. She hid her smile in his thigh and bit him gently. “At ease, soldier.”

“What?!?” He looked a little fuzzy, and she wasn’t at all sure he’d heard her.

She moved her hand over to grab him around the hips. “Cullen, you can move. I’d like it if you did.”

He didn’t miss it that time and he reached for her immediately. One hand wrapped around the side of her face, fingers nestling in her braids. With the other hand, he traced the contours of her face, running his thumb over her brow, her cheek, her nose.  He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with such adoration that she wanted to roll under the bed and hide.

Instead, she smiled pertly up at him. “So what do you want, Commander? Harder, softer, slower faster?”

The options made him smile back as he ran his thumb over her mouth, dipping it inside to let her suck on it. “More. I want more.”

His eyes were fierce with emotion, and Ali knew what he meant, but this wasn't the time to follow up on the thought. Without a word, she pulled his hand away and bent back to her task, drawing him back inside her mouth with no fanfare. To her surprise, he kept hold of her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers and pressing his mouth to her knuckles.

His other hand stayed wrapped in her hair, but although he tightened his grip, he didn’t press her down further. That was a shock – every other man she’d done this with had inevitably tried to fuck through the back of her throat. The fact that he didn’t shouldn’t have been a surprise – this was Cullen, who never ever pushed for more than she was willing to offer.

More than ever, she wanted this to be great for him, to be the sexiest thing that had ever happened in all his troubled life. He had asked for more, so she gave it to him – letting it be wet, and sloppy and fun. When he hit the back of her throat, she tried to relax, to take him deeper, and he groaned every time she did. With her free hand, she cupped his testicles and felt them tighten.

He was clearly getting close to the brink, but when he tried to pull away, Ali kept her head in place. She squeezed his hand to let him know that it was okay and was rewarded with a strangled, Oh Maker. A few seconds later, his whole body seized up as his release rolled over him, but she was ready and swallowed quickly.

She sat up just as he tipped backwards, splaying out across her bed, arms akimbo. Hastily, Ali wiped her mouth with the edge of the towel and flipped it back over him before clamoring up beside him.

Propped up on her arm, she looked down at his dazed expression and enjoyed the satisfaction of a job well done. He looked like a man who'd been thoroughly wrung out into a state of utter bliss, and it was a wondrous thing to see him looking so relaxed.

Almost like he could hear her thoughts, his dimple flashed as he grinned and blinked sleepily at her. Ali gave in to temptation and ran a hand through his curls, scratching hard and watching his eyes close again in appreciation. He only let her do it for a moment before he grabbed her and hauled her across his chest. She could hear his heart beating, strong and sure and she snuggled in closer, reveling in the feel of bare skin under her hands.

They stayed like that for while - Cullen lost to a befuddled afterglow, and Ali enjoying a few minutes of feeling like a normal woman, held close by the man she... wanted very much to be held by.

Eventually, Cullen stirred and ran a hand across Ali's back. "So when do we leave?"

She tapped a beat in his chest with her fingers. "Tomorrow noon. We can make it to the docks by midnight and sleep on the ship. Then it's two or three days to find Samson's lair - we'll be gone maybe two weeks?"

"Sounds fine to me. Who else is coming?" He stopped running her back but only to hitch her up closer to him.

"Bull for sure. You'll have your shield, but no one does mayhem quite like he does. I'd like Varric to come - he knew Samson back in Kirkwall too. And Sera as well. That gives me two archers for distance and two warriors for up close. I'll run switch between you all."

"So we're going on the road with Varric AND Sera? This will be damn interesting."

"That's not the word you're looking for, but it will be fun." Smiling into his chest, Ali thought about all the trouble the two rogues could cause together. "Just make sure you bring a set of cards - Varric will want to play, but his are all marked. And, um... don't bring any small clothes."

He looked scandalized. "No smalls? What exactly do you all get up to on the road?"

Ali laughed and reached up to ruffle his hair. "Well when Sera is there, she'll steal them out of your pack and make you wear them as a hat. It was funny the first time, but she won't give up on it. You can wear a pair if you want - but since I do the laundry every night, I usually don't."

Cullen lifted her off him and sat up, utterly astounded. "Are you telling me that every time you go with Sera, and for the whole of the next few weeks, you won't be wearing any knickers?"

"Oh." She hadn't ever thought about it at all. Going knickerless with Sera on the road had just turned into another of the weird habits she'd picked up since joining the Inquisition. "Is that a problem?"

His eyes widened just a fraction at the question. "Not a problem. Just a distraction. A welcome one, though, since it will give me something to consider during the long days ahorse."

Something pleasant fizzed in Ali's gut, a bit of warmth at the thought that he would be thinking about her even when she was just a few feet away, but her arousal was tempered by the thought of the company they'd be in. "You know we can't... whatever. Not with Varric and Sera around - they'll suss us out in a heartbeat."

Cullen flicked his eyes over the length of her body, making her feel utterly exposed. That was grossly unfair since he was the one without pants, and Ali resisted the urge to cover herself. "Not on the road, no. But when we get back to Skyhold, I fully intend on paying you the same favor you just paid me."

That wasn't exactly a surprise, but hearing the words make heat bloom into her face and she gave him a silly smile. She couldn't quite come up with the right bit of banter to send back to him, but she was saved (quite literally) by the bell ringing the whole fortress to their dinner break.

"Damn." Ali glanced towards the stairs at the same time Cullen's stomach gave a loud growl. The both looked down and burst out laughing, the electricity between them forgotten in the wake of such a good piece of comic timing.

Wrapping the towel back around his waist, he shrugged good-naturedly. "Let me get dressed, and you can help me hobble down the stairs."


	48. Chapter 48

In the end, they didn’t leave Skyhold on time. A few crucial diplomatic letters came in that demanded Ali’s attention, and Dennett wanted to reshoe one of the big draft horses for Bull to ride. Cullen had tried to use the time wisely – he’d already spoken to Cassandra about what he should pack for such a trip, but he’d double-checked the horse’s tack and made sure that he had a few extra bits of candy tucked away in case he needed to bribe Sera.

By the time they finally rode out it was a good six hours past when they were planning on leaving. Cullen was feeling sharp nerved and anxious, and based on the way Ali looked as she led them out the gates of Skyhold, she was feeling it too. It was there in the tightness of her smile, and the stiff way she said goodbye to Leliana and Josephine.

When they reached the end of the bridge, she drew up her horse and waved back at the castle. Cullen joined her, taking pleasure in being on this end of the gesture for once, instead of waiting on the walls. When Ali turned away from the castle, he was surprised to see all the tension had drained from her face and she looked like her normal calm self.

Varric caught his look of confusion and grinned. “Well Curly, I guess you’re truly part of the gang now that you know our secret.”

“What?-” Confusion set in a second before a glimmer of understanding hit and he turned to Ali in shock. “Have you been bamming us?”

Ali turned her mare in a tight circle to get her pointed in the right direction. “Well… the thing is – it does take at least half a day to get to the docks… if you’re anyone but us. We have some tricks and paths that cut it down by half, but if I tell everyone that…”

“Everyone starts using them, and you lose your buffer time.” Cullen concluded for her, shaking his head at her audacity. He knew that she frequently arrived ahead of or behind schedule, but this was a little more than he’d ever considered. Still, he reflected, she wasn’t wrong, and it had never done them any harm not to know. Shrugging, he reeled his horse around too.

“Lead on then, Lady.”

*****

The Inquisitor’s paths were fast all right, but they weren’t exactly easy. Although they had started off with a ground-eating canter along the nicely maintained road, it wasn’t long before Ali led them down an old game trail and dropped their pace to a walk. Not too long after that, they had to take a series of terrifying switchbacks down a mountain. They all dismounted to lead the horses down, but even with that, Sera’s horse refused to go until she tied a blindfold over its eyes.

Still, when they reached the bottom, Cullen was amazed to discover that they were almost halfway to the Waking Sea, and only an hour had gone by. Looking back up at the cliff they’d just descended, he realized that the trail would collapse if it got regular use from Inquisition forces, and he vowed to the group that he would never break their trust.

Grinning, Ali hauled herself back up in the saddle, leading them off again.

*****

The little party continued to cut across country, cantering when they could, but walking most of the way. Cullen settled back into the old rhythms of horseback, letting his mind wander out past the immediacy of time passing. He tried to focus on what might happen with Samson, but his thoughts kept straying to the woman ahead of him, specifically to his view of her bum and how she wasn’t wearing anything under her trousers. Between the sunlight dappling through the trees, the feel of the breeze on his face, and the knowledge of what he’d get to do when they got back to Skyhold, Cullen was feeling pretty at peace with his life at the moment.

They stopped at dusk to rest the horses and eat a quick meal – cold pies made fresh that morning in the Skyhold kitchens. Cullen listed to the others joke and laugh around him, enjoying the cadence of their interactions. Ali noticed his silence and brushed her fingers along the back of his hand. “All right there, Commander?”

He smiled at her concern, misplaced though it was. “Better than. All’s well.”

She might have said something else, but Varric hollered that it was last call for the privy and the moment was gone. It was getting dark, so when they mounted back up, Ali sent a spray of magelights hovering out around them - far enough out not to spook the horses, but close enough to illuminate the trail and keep the horses footing secure.

*****

They made it to the docks at midnight, just as planned. The ship was small, barely more than a boat, but it looked to be in good repair. Just a small anonymous vessel, staffed by a small anonymous crew, though Cullen knew the Inquisition paid well for such anonymity. Ali hopped off her horse and grabbed a map case before scurrying up the gangway, leaving the rest of them to deal with the baggage.

One of the sailors dropped his line and met her halfway to the ship.  "Hallo, m'lady. Nightingale sang a pretty promise this time didn't she love?"

"Not as pretty as it could be Captain. Let me show you where I'm wishful to go..." They stepped away out of earshot and Cullen looked to Varric in confusion. "Isn't the route already set?"

Varric snorted. "Locked in place. But Junebug always double checks. She claims it's to make the captains feel like part of the gang, but I think it just makes her feel safer."

Sera passed all her reins to Bull and started gathering up their packs, shoving each one into Cullen's arms. "Baby Quiz saw a shipwreck once, thinks a bit of blowy wind is a storm.”

Varric poked Sera in the gut. "Says the girl who came tearing into my room swearing she saw a great slithering beast in Lake Calenhad."

Sera puffed herself up in anger, and Cullen hurried to interject. If they let Sera get going now, Ali would be up half the night talking her down. "You mean the Ceirean? He's not so much slithering as lumbering."

Varric turned to him in amazement. "He's real?"

"Dunno." Cullen tried to shrug and failed, too weighed down with baggage. "I never saw him myself, but there was a drunk in the Spoiled Princess who swore he had. Remind me tomorrow and I'll tell you all the legends."

Mollified, Sera stuck her tongue out at Varric and flounced up to the ship, men trailing behind her. Ali joined them, negotiations apparently concluded. She gave a sideways glance to the enormous pile of packs Cullen held, but didn't comment as they headed below deck. "Okay boys and girls, we'll make land in around twelve hours. Two cabins, women to the left..."

"Port." Varric interrupted patiently. "We're on a ship, so the women are port."

Ali huffed and shouldered her pack. "Whatever. There are only four beds, so we'll have to share. Varric and Bull are together, and Cullen's in with me and Sera."

Cullen's eyebrows rose at her pronouncement, but he was distracted by the way Sera’s face lit up. "Snuggles?" She asked exuberantly, throwing her arms around Ali.

“Snuggles.” Ali agreed, rolling her eyes only a little bit at the elf’s antics.

Sera turned to Cullen. “She’s the best at snuggling.”

_I know_ , he almost said, but bit the words back. Instead, he just nodded and said he’d take her word for it.

*****

The cabins were tiny, more bolt holes than anything else. The beds, such as they were, were more like bunks, small pockets of space under shelves that groaned with the weight of supplies. Looking around at the cramped space, he had to ask.

“How in the void is Bull going to fit into one of these beds?”

Ali laughed as she started to unbuckle her armor. “They’re bigger than they look. Still, it’s worth heading in there in the morning to watch him try to get out. The cursing is extraordinary.”

The mention of the morning reminded him of exactly what the sleeping arrangements were going to be, and he had to at least _try_ to protest. “Inquisitor, it seems more appropriate for me to go sleep with…”

Ali cut him off. “They snore, Cullen. They snore beyond all measure of what the laws of man should allow, they snore to wake the very heavens and bring the world crashing to its knees. If you go in there, you will not sleep. I promise.”

“And the dwarf toots something terrible.” Sera piped up from the doorway. “Like to blow you halfway cross the room once he gets going.”

“What really?” That was unexpected enough to chase away thoughts of impropitary. “We had a fellow like that in the Circle. We used to light them on fire.”

Beside him, Ali groaned. Sera’s face fell into a dumfounded expression, and Cullen knew what a mistake he’d just made.

“Of course! You can light a fart on fire. I can’t believe I never thought of that.” Her face brightened as she considered the possibilities. “Quizzie, can we…”

“Not on the ship.” Ali said through a yawn. “Ask me again in camp and I’ll send up some sparks for you. But now, pretty one, it’s time for bed. And since Cullen is here, you need to keep some clothes on.”

Sera grumbled but acquiesced, digging out her blanket and climbing into a cot. Ali rubbed her forehead and gave Cullen an apologetic look. “Sleep if you can. Head is down the corridor, and there will be breakfast in the mess at eight bells. I’ll do laundry in the morning, and…”

Recognizing Ali’s worry that he needed fussing over he stopped her with a quick kiss on the forehead before stepping back to unbuckle his breastplate. “Don’t fret magelet and get yourself to sleep. Sera won’t snuggle herself."

He climbed into the other cot with his own blanket. It was shockingly comfortable, and he realized how tired he was from the hours of riding. Knowing the next day would be even longer than this one had been, he pulled the covers up over his shoulders and twisted to blow out the candle.

The last thing he saw before the light went was the Ali curled with an arm draped over Sera, both women already fast asleep. He wished the sleeping arrangements had worked out differently, but the sight was still enough for him to bit his lip and say a prayer to the Maker, thanking him for bestowing such blessings on his life.

*****

Cullen awoke some hours later in the dark of the night, a heavy weight on his back pressing him down into the thin mattress. He knew immediately that it wasn’t Ali - he had none of the easy feeling of peace that she would have instilled if she’d crawled into his bed, and she would never do such a thing without asking him first. He had a brief moment of panic that somehow a demon had followed him out from his dreams, and he froze in place, petrified of moving.

Whatever was on top of him shifted a little and Cullen took a deep breath through his nose. There was no sign of demonic sulphur. Instead, all he could smell was hops and moss - Sera for sure.  He tried to wriggle her off him, but she seemed impervious to the motion. Her only reaction was to flop a hand down on the side of his face and whisper, “Shhh, pillow. Be a good pillow.”  
Giving in, Cullen relaxed, sinking back into the mattress and letting his eyes flutter shut. _Sera likes to snuggle_ , Ali had said, so snuggle he would.

In the morning, Cullen blinked his eyes open against the dim bits of sunlight coming in through the window. Sera was still in his bed but they had shifted during the night – she was now pressed against his chest with forearms and knees, blonde head nestled under his chin.

Across the room, Ali lay sprawled on her own cot, the edge of her profile just barely visible peeping out from under the fur of his mantle. Sera must have taken the blanket in her exodus, leaving Ali to find another way to keep warm. Cullen smiled at the thought of her using _his_ cloak to sleep under – although he knew it was a matter of practicality, he also quite liked the idea of Ali wearing his things, perhaps wearing _only_ his things.

Beside his, Sera grunted in her sleep and shifted, inadvertently digging a bony elbow into his side and distracting him from what might have been a very promising thought. Carefully, he rolled her over and tucked an arm around her stomach, hoping for a few more minutes of peace before everyone woke up.

But when he finally got the elf settled and looked back at Ali, he saw that she had awoken too and was watching him with a sleepy smile. *So cute* she mouthed at him, and he had to smile back.

It was early yet, but Cullen didn’t want to go back to sleep anymore. He wished he could cross the room and crawl into the other bed, and from the look on Ali’s face, she wanted it too. Since they couldn’t they were content to lie on opposite sides of the room and exchange smiles over Sera’s sleeping head, both grateful that the other was there, and safe, and happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to be slow for awhile. I'm realizing how badly I rushed the last act of this story, so there are some pretty serious rewrites to do. Sorry y'all.


	49. Chapter 49

Ali sank down below the water, opening her eyes to the cool darkness. She savored it - the soundless feeling of water surrounding her, her aching muscles relaxing into the pool’s embrace, trials of the day set aside for a moment of peace.

As a child, she'd accepted bathing as a part of her duty, accepted that good noble girls were always clean and presentable. She'd bathed every night between giving her hair a hundred strokes and dressing in a starched and frilled night rail.

Once she'd gone to the Circle, she'd stopped worrying if her nightgowns were suitably bleached, but the daily baths had remained. Her days were filled with study and worry, her nights with whispered conversations with her dorm mates. A bath was sometimes her only break from all of the bullshit that came along with being a mage locked in a tower.

She’d let go of the tradition after her Circle fell, but had been able to reclaim it in Skyhold thanks to Cullen and Dagna. Even if they didn’t know exactly what it meant to her, she was grateful every time she returned to her room and got to sink into the hot water. On the road, she took every opportunity presented to bathe – her friends thought she was a little obsessed with cleanliness, but she never bothered to correct them. It was hard to explain, but this was often her only chance to be alone with her thoughts, to settle herself back into her body, to reflect on the day that had passed.

So how had today gone? Good, she decided, as had the day before. The boat had docked safely, and their horses had been well-rested. They’d made good time on the main highway, and even the trail they’d split off onto had been dry and secure. Aside from a Fade Rift and one pesky encounter with a bear, they’d encountered no resistance from any enemies.

Ali smiled to herself at the thought of the bear. As soon as it had lumbered out of the bushes towards them, their horses had started to panic. This had happened before, and it was always a bit of a mess to get them calmed down. This time though, while Ali and Bull took care of the bear, Cullen had taken care of their mounts. He’d stroked their necks and blown in their nostrils, muttering some Chasind sounding nonsense in their ears.

When he noticed they were all looking at him, he’d blushed and explained that his father swore that would calm any horse. Varric had demanded a full explanation over what exactly he’d said, taking notes furiously as they got back on the road. After that, Bull had asked Cullen about more stories from the farm.

She had been worried about how Cullen would do away from Skyhold, but it turned out she hadn’t needed to. He’d integrated perfectly into their merry band – improved it, in fact. After months and months on the road together, they’d all heard every story and every joke the others had. Cullen had new things to say and was a new audience for their old bits.

The night before, they’d camped in the ruins of an abandoned watchtower. Over their dinner, Cullen had regaled them with a slew of old Fereldan legends. Sera had been pouting ever since a rifling of his packs had turned up no smallclothes, but he soon had her laughing at the ferocious faces he pulled to imitate the monsters. Even Varric had been too distracted by the stories to play cards with his usual trickery, and Bull had taken the opportunity to win back his favorite eyepatch. Ali had been perfectly content to relax with a mug of tea and let his words wash over her. Although she trusted all of her friends implicitly, there was a special joy in having Cullen on the road with her. When he was with her, she didn’t worry as much, could share the burden of leadership and let him carry some of the authority.

The only downside was that they truly hadn’t had a moment alone the entire trip. The morning on the ship, she’d caught him as he headed to the cabin to dress. It had been just long enough to slide her palm along the front of his trousers. His mouth had dropped open and his eyes had gone hazy, but she was expected on deck and couldn’t stick around to finish things. When he’d come up a few minutes later, he was suspiciously relaxed, and she knew he’d taken care of it himself.

That night in camp, she’d been sorely tempted to stay up with him, but Varric had the first watch so there was no chance to sneak any time away before she’d fallen asleep. She’d known it would be like that, but having him so close but just out of reach was a special kind of torture, and she cursed Samson a little more each day.

On this night, they’d camped in a small copse of trees above a crashing river. After scouting the area, Sera had announced her discovery of a small pool a few hundred yards downstream by proclaiming _ladyship can wash her ladybits_. There hadn’t been time for a bath before dinner, but as soon as the dishes had been cleared, Ali had grabbed a shirt to bathe in and declared her intentions.

They’d run long on the road, and no one else got up to join her, choosing instead to get ready for bed. Bull had first watch, and Sera had decided that Varric’s emissions were worth braving for a night of snuggling the dwarf. Cullen had just yawned and bid her goodnight. There was no way to extend an invitation to him in the mixed company, so she’d headed off alone.

The pool was lovely – cool water swirling around the moss covered rocks. As Ali floated, she tried to content herself with her usual scrub down and soak. They would be back at Skyhold in a week or so, and she did have a very pretty promise waiting for her there.

But then, as if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard crunching noises coming from the trail. They were too heavy to belong to a rogue, but too light to be Bull’s. Pretending she hadn’t heard, Ali closed her eyes and let her arms float out to the sides.

When the footsteps stopped, she let her feet tip down and stood on the sandy bottom of the pond. She wore only a shirt, and she felt it grab at her skin as she stood up in the water. Desperately hoping Cullen wasn’t sent just to fetch her, she opened her eyes.

He was alone, unarmored and showing no signs of hurry. He crouched on the bank, trailing his fingers in the water, and waited for her to speak.

*****

"Good evening Commander."

"Good evening Inquisitor. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, I - uh, do you want to join me?"

"Do you want me to?"

A nod.

A shirt pulled off.

A dive, long strokes. Surface.

"Bull said to tell you the littles are down, and he's on watch."

A blush. "Meddlesome giant."

"Very."

A grin, with dimples.

"Nice job today with that rift."

"You too with the bear. I'm glad you came along."

"I'm glad I got to come." A wink.

Laughing, with a splash for emphasis.

A big hand, wrapping around a wrist. Pulling her in.

"I have a confession."

"Oh?" Worried.

"I promised you a favor upon our return."

"Oh?" Intrigued.

"I'm going to break my promise."

"Oh." Disappointed.

"I'm going to do it now."

*****

"Oh..." Ali whispered as Cullen's husky voice broke his promise for a better one. Above them, the moon was very nearly full, and faint silvery light lit up the water around them. Water streamed from his hair and tiny droplets slid down his shoulders. Ali followed their path with her eyes and she wanted very much to reach out and follow them with her fingers. She didn’t, feeling unaccountably shy for the first time in a very long time.

Instead of reaching out, she managed to make her feet work and stepped closer to him. Biting her lip, she looked up at his face. He hadn’t shaved in several days, and his hair was disheveled from the water. He didn’t look like her usual Commander, he looked… dangerous. A wild man, nearly a brute, all muscles and heat and big brown eyes that stared at her hungrily.

This was like something out of a fairy story, a pond under the moonlight, a man made of strength and sunlight standing in front of her and promising the very best kind of wicked fun. It was a risky thing, but manageably so. True, Sera and Varric were asleep in their tents just over the ridge, but Bull had all but promised to keep a lookout for them. They would be able to hear anybody coming, and the surrounding rocks would provide plenty of cover, even if the moon was very bright tonight.

And besides, while it had been a good day, it hadn't been a great one - but it could be.

"Yes." Ali whispered, tipping her head down to nuzzle at his shoulder.

Cullen wrapped a hand in her braid and tugged backwards, bending her over the arm he slipped behind her back. "Yes what?"

"Yes _please_ ," she hissed out, feeling the words light her up. She’d known she would pay for making him sit still during her forfeit, and it seemed he was collecting now. As much as she loved bossing him around, she loved this too – loved when he took over and took control.

She slid her hands up his chest, marveling at how warm he was even in the cool water. Linking her arms around his neck, she pressed even closer. Finding his feet, she set her toes on top of his and leaned back into the circle of his arms.

He didn't release her but he did start walking her backwards towards the shadow of the cliff. Using his grip on her hair, he tilted her head to the side and started working his way up her neck, scraping his teeth and whispering to her in a voice laden with desire and control.

"This is one of my favorite things to go, you know. I wanted to do it properly, someplace locked, with all the time I needed to really find out what makes you tick. I wanted to keep you there for hours, between your legs and taking you apart until you couldn’t remember anything at all except how to scream my name and beg me for more.”

He nipped her earlobe and flicked his tongue across it and Ali seriously wondered if she could actually die of want. He'd barely started but she could feel herself unraveling along her seams, needing desperately for him to slide a hand down and attend to the ache that was building between her legs.

But he didn't. Instead, maddeningly, he started back down her neck to her collarbones, still whispering in that divinely velvety voice. "But I couldn't stop thinking about you all day, all knickerless, with your legs spread over a horse instead of spread over me. Then I saw you here in the water, wearing my shirt and I thought I might die if I didn't get to find out how you taste."

Ali's knees buckled at that and she gave a little mewling noise of want as she gripped at his shoulders to keep from slipping under the water and dying a truly embarrassing death. “Cullen, you’re killing me.”

He pressed his lips to the pulse that was hammering in her throat and laughed. “Bear down, Trevelyan. I haven’t even started.”

Then to her shock he stepped away from her and vanished under the water. Ali had only a moment to wonder what was happening before strong arms wrapped around her legs and pulled them out from under her. She started to tip backwards, but before she fell, Cullen stood from underneath her and lifted her clear out of the water.

He’d draped her legs over his shoulders and was holding her effortlessly with hands propped under her bottom. As always, the casual display of just how strong he was made something quiver deep within her and she nearly came undone at the sight of his shadowed grin between her legs. He moved them back a few paces until they came to one of the rocks, and Ali leaned back against the slickness of the moss and tried to catch her breath.

Cullen didn’t give her the time to settle herself. As soon as her weight was leaning against the rock, he pushed her shirt up and started nibbling his way across the underside of her breasts. She slipped against her perch and had to scramble above her head to find a handhold. His only response was to grip her tighter, and every bit of pressure from his fingers went straight to her core.

“Please Commander…” Ali begged, trying to goad him into doing something to release the pressure building up inside of her.

All he did in response was lower his mouth a tiny bit and begin working across her stomach, using his teeth to keep her shirt out of the way. "Be a good little magelet, and give us some fire."

"Huh?" Ali could barely focus over the feeling of his mouth moving across her belly. "Are you cold?"

She felt his smile against her skin before he tipped his head back. "I want to see you."

"Oh." Instead of fire, which she wasn't at all sure she could control right now, she brought up a dozen tiny magelights. The tiny pinpricks of light swirled around her hand before scattering out and hovering in an arc a few feet out from them.

By their light, she could see Cullen's eyes blown wide with desire and she was sure hers looked the same Her legs were very pale against the brown of his shoulders, and she wondered what she might look like from his vantage point. It crossed her mind to worry about how exposed she was, how the soaking shirt she wore did nothing to hide her pudgy bits, but when he turned and scraped his stubble along her thigh, she promptly forgot about the aesthetics in favor of a shuddering sigh that turned into a long moan.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “You’re going to have to be quiet or you’ll wake the camp. Do you think you can do that, or should we stop and pick this up another time?”

The thought of stopping registered roughly the way a suggestion to let bake a cake would have – possible in theory, but utterly impossible to do at this exact moment. Ali nearly laughed at the absurdity of his suggestion, but she knew he had a point. Still, there was one other option.

“Silence me.”

In the glow of the magelights, she saw his eyes go wide. He’d used Silences on her before, but never in a place this secluded. It wasn’t lost on either one of them that it was unheard of for a mage to request a Silence from a Templar, especially when said Templar had already proven to be stronger if it came to blows.

Cullen didn’t argue, just furrowed his brow in concentration. Ali felt the bubble go up around them and the familiar itch at the back of her mind. A few of the magelights winked out, but most of them were far enough away to be unaffected. He looked up at her with deep concern. “Is that okay?”

Ali dropped a hand to trace along the lines of his face. “It’s grand. It means that you’ve got me.”

He closed his eyes at that, savoring the sentiment before dipping his head back to her thighs and working his way up with scruffy little kisses.

And then his tongue was there, working through her curls and parting her lips. He licked her long and leisurely, taking his damn sweet time about getting to where she urgently needed him. When he finally reached her clit, he brushed his lips across it so gently she almost thought she’d imagined it. But he did it again, and then again, giving her a tiny bit more pressure each time.

Adjusting his grip, he slid one hand free and his fingers joined his tongue, working her over with just enough pressure to leave her lightheaded. Very slowly, he slid a finger around her opening as he blew a stream of air across her aching nub.

“Please, Cullen, please…” Ali knew she was begging now, and she didn’t care. If he didn’t step it up soon, she wasn’t going to make it through this with her sanity intact. “Oh Maker please…”

Without pausing the motions of his hand, he looked up to meet her eyes. “It isn’t up to the Maker, lovely girl.” Holding her gaze, he started to slide a finger inside and shuddered along with her when she quaked under the feeling. Ali tried to writhe against him for more friction, but he just gripped her hips tighter and shook his head, saying with a smile, “Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked, make me to rest in the warmest places.”

Thankfully, he bent his head again and pressed an open mouth to her, flicking his tongue out as he slipped another finger into her. She tried to form words, but nothing came out except for his name. A vague thought flickered through her mind that it was more fun when she tormented him into losing his words, but that was lost when he started pausing in his attentions to mutter into her skin. She tried to focus on what he was saying as his movements slowed, and she was finally able to tell that he was still saying the Chant. “An unquenchable flame, all consuming and never satisfied.”

It was too much – the feelings from his hands mixed with the Chant dripping off his lips and Ali couldn’t do anything but slam her hands on the rock in frustration. He picked up speed again, playing her expertly and finding all the places that she liked best. He knew every bit of her, knew which sounds meant that she needed more, and he gave it to her with fingers and lips and tongue.

She was sprinting up the peak and the end was in sight. Every part of her was hot and coiled with need, and the breaking point was coming and she was almost there and…

He moved his mouth away from her.

Ali gasped in shock and very nearly cried. “No, please….”

“Shh…” His grin was altogether wicked as he went back to pressing fluttery kisses to her thighs. “I’ll take care of you magelet. But you can handle more.”

“No…” Ali couldn’t believe that he was still teasing her, still holding back from giving her what she needed so badly. She didn’t want more, she wanted him to finish this before she dissolved entirely. There had to be some way to convince him and she seized at the first thought that came to mind. “Please Cullen please I need you, I’ll do anything you want, just tell me I have sung to your approval.”

That did it, broke right through his self-control and he bent back to his task. She realized immediately that there was more he could do, and he was going to do it. His fingers plunged in and out of her in a punishing rhythm, swiping forward with every thrust. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked hard, sending her spinning out into more sensation than she was able to bear.

This time, when her peak approached he didn’t pause. If anything, he fucked her harder with his fingers and increased the pressure of his mouth. It was the most wonderful kind of torture Ali could imagine, and she finally threw herself over the peak with a scream. It was almost unbearable, the way pleasure broke across her body, taking her apart into a million feelings, every one more glorious than the last.

When she returned to herself, her heart was pounding. She sucked in deep lungfuls of air and stared up at the night sky as the stars came back into focus. Below her, Cullen held her steady and she could feel his breath waft across her stomach where he rested his head.

She let go of her perch and ran a hand along his hair. He didn’t release her, just bent them down towards the water and let her slide down his body until her legs rested around his waist. Still holding her, he moved towards the bank and settled them on a rock where she could stay nestled in his lap.

Ali felt languid and sated. Her limbs were heavy but overall she felt unbelievably light, like she’d been set free from some of the burdens and worries that were her ever-present companions. The pursuit of Samson seemed very far away – all she could be concerned with right now was how it felt to drape herself in Cullen’s lap and nuzzle into his shoulder.

His big hands stroked her back and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. She thought she might actually be happier than she ever had been before, here with this man in his arms, where she wanted to stay forever. She could hear his heartbeat, very faintly, and she tried to press forward even closer.

The movement made her hips roll a little bit, and he jerked underneath her, thrusting up automatically. Through her afterglow, Ali realized that he was hard underneath her, straining against the fabric of his breeches. She hadn’t even considered what state he might be in after that performance, but of course he would be worked up too.

She couldn’t leave him like that, not after this night, but she didn’t have the energy to shift position fully. Instead, she rolled her hips again and enjoyed the groan that slipped out of his lips.

“Lady, you don’t have to…” He tilted her head back with a hand on her cheek and rested his forehead against hers. “That’s not why I… _oh Maker_.”

It turned out that she wasn’t done in entirely, and the friction of his cock over her was setting some parts stirring again. She knotted her hands in his hair and rocked herself more urgently, letting him thrust up to meet her each time. It was almost truly sex, but just far enough away that Ali didn’t feel like they needed to stop to talk about it.

It was like the Winter Palace, only better. His skin was bare and soft under her hands, and he could pull her shirt up to access her breasts without the barrier of a corset. They were leisurely about it, both letting hands drift slowly across the other as they rocked together in unison. They didn’t speak, but they didn’t need to. As good as earlier had been, this was better. This wasn’t games or wagers, this was just the pair of them, as honest as they were able to get.

When he finally came, Ali did too. It wasn’t the explosion from before – this time it was softer, almost gentle. She slid back along his thighs, letting the water come in to clean between them. Though she was loathe to break the silence, the moon was setting and they had to return to camp sometime.

“Cullen…..”

He stopped her with a hand over her mouth, letting his thumb brush across her mouth. “When we get back to Skyhold, we need to talk about this. Really talk, because I can’t…”

The words slipped around her like a blanket, holding her as close as he had done moments before. He was right – they did need to talk, and this wasn’t the place. He looked nervous though, like he might have offended her in some way, or risked something he couldn’t bear to lose. She couldn’t tell him the truth, not just now, but she could reassure him that he wasn’t going to lose her.

Ali slid all the way off him and pulled him to his feet. She wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned up to whisper in his ear, “You are the fire at the heart of my world and comfort is only yours to give.”

*****

Bull said nothing when the bedraggled pair staggered back into camp. He’d been happy to cover for them, and from the look on their faces, the Commander and Boss had used the time well.

They slipped into their tents on opposite sides of the camp without so much as a glance between them. Bull just shook his head at their backs and went back to polishing Cullen’s breastplate. Based on Ali’s unsteady legs, that man had earned a night of sleep.


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is not fun you guys.

They'd only been on the road for an hour when the fire started. It had been a good hour - the sun was warm on their shoulders, and the road was dry. Ali was still a little fuzzy from the night before, but it looked like Cullen had slept very well. He'd helped Varric make breakfast that morning - the dwarf had a way with corn fritters, and Cullen's coffee had rounded out the meal perfectly. He'd handed her a plate of food with his normal affable grin, but there was a twinkle in his eye that set a burning warmth deep within her.

They were going to _talk_ about it.

On the road, Sera was the first to notice something was wrong - fire could wipe out an alienage in the blink of an eye so she'd spent much of her life attuned to the danger. She sniffed the air warily, then whirled to face Ali. "I think they’re burning their shit!"

Ali glanced from the elf to the road and grimaced. She couldn't smell or see anything, but she also knew better than to doubt Sera's senses. "He knows we're here."

Without another word she tapped her horse and took off at a gallop, companions only a second behind her. About a mile up the road, the first plume of smoke came into view over the horizon. The smoke only grew in front of them, another waft blooming up, and then another. They rode their horses hard and Ali said a prayer of gratitude for Master Dennett and his excellent eye for horseflesh.

Soon they came to a bluff overlooking a wide, shallow valley. In the middle, a spiky building loomed menacingly now with four plumes of smoke spiraling out of the walls.

Ali slid off her horse and tossed the reins to Bull, who promptly started hobbling all the mounts. Sera grabbed the spyglass and flipped to the ground, trying to make out some details.

"Gates look locked but the walls ain't burnt yet. Sumptins moving inside, looks red and mean. And oh hey a giant! Congrats!"

Behind them, Bull gave a hushed _huzzah_ and Ali rolled her eyes at the sound. That man loved fighting anything bigger than he was. Opening her pack, she started handing out potions and runes.

Varric looked up from where he was checking Bianca's bolts and noticed the spread of bottles on Ali's belt. "Junebug, where's your lyrium?"

 _Dammit_. She'd really hoped no one would notice that all her potions were shades of red. Under pretense of checking her armor, Ali tilted her head down. "I didn't bring any, but I'll be fine." She looked up, daring anyone to comment. No one did, but Bull huffed a little, and Cullen’s brow furrowed.

There wasn't time to get into it, and it was too late to find any lyrium anyways. It looked like everyone had gotten themselves armed and ready, so she gestured them all into a rough circle. "All right children here's the plan. Once we get to the gates, we've got to get them open. Sera, if Bull pops you up and over, can you pick the lock?"

The little elf cocked her head and thought. "Prolly yeah, but it might be a hot bit."

"Okay, I'll go with you then." Ali flicked a glance over to Cullen, who was staying very quiet. He caught her look and have her a tight smile in return.

"Varric, shoot through the gate and try to keep them off her. Once we get inside, find cover and stay back. I'll keep barriers up as much as I can but the warriors are my priority. Cullen, get them to focus on your shield if you can and Bull..."

"Yeah Boss?" The Qunari's face split into a ferocious grin.

"...you smash."

*****

The five of them ran towards the gate as fast as they could, all thoughts of stealth forgotten for the moment. Once they reached the walls, Bull grabbed Sera abound the waist and casually slung her upwards. Ali weighed too much for him to do the same with her, but there were other ways of making the jump.

As if they'd practiced it a hundred times before, she ran at Cullen, who held his shield out at waist height. When she planted her foot on the metal, he heaved her up, giving her enough air to plant another foot between Bulls horns and leap for the wall.

Sera grabbed her by the hair and helped pull her up before grabbing another handful of arrows and shooting out at the enemies below.

Catching her friend around the waist, Ali tossed off a barrier and stepped off the wall, falling the thirty or so feet without a second thought. They dashed to the gates, pursued by two Red Templars and a Behemoth.

It did take Sera precious seconds to unlock the gates, but Bianca's bolts and Ali's bursts of fire kept their opponents away from the rogue. As soon as the lock clicked open, Sera flipped backwards, already slipping an arrow into place.

Cullen charged into the courtyard with The Iron Bull a step behind. Ali tossed off a barrier as they ran by her, then turned to deal with the menacing Behemoth.

It was funny - the first time she'd seen these corrupted creatures was in Haven, she'd seriously believed they would kill her without effort. Now, standing in this courtyard she felt only annoyance at the delay it posed. The sword of light appeared with just a thought, and she started carving chunks off the monster's crystals. There was no art to this, no fancy footwork or swordplay. This was just her will made manifest and brought to bear.

Ali was dimly aware of her companions behind her and she paused to toss off another barrier around her warriors. More Templars had emerged from the temple, but their arrival was sound tracked by the steady thrum of bolts and arrows, and even the giant was no match for Bull's whirling fury.

The Behemoth finally crashed to the ground and shattered. Ali didn't pause to gloat, just launched herself over a line of barrels towards the main steps. Cullen fell in beside her, and gave her a wolfish grin over his shield. His eyes were bright from the battle, and sweat beaded his hairline. Ali felt a bit of heat burst through her belly at the way his thighs looked as he ran, flexing beautifully under the cling of leather. She had to glance away - this was the middle of a pitched battle for the Maker's sake, and there was no time for lust.

 _Maybe later though_... She forced the thought away, focusing on the enemies waiting at the top of the steps.

She tossed off a wave of lighting as they ran up, but Cullen held back, eyes drifting across the yard. Before she could question him, he flipped his sword and thrust backwards. The assassin behind him fell out of stealth immediately, twin daggers clattering to the ground. A swift swipe finished him and Cullen was moving again, stepping behind her back with his shield up.

Back by the gates, Bull and the rogues had finished up. As Ali watched the last of her enemies fall, she gave a low whistle and slipped through the temple doors, her companions right behind her.

Outside had been hot and dusty and loud, but it was even hotter inside. Small fires flickered around the corners of the room, their dancing shadows illuminating huge gaps in the floor. There were shadowy figures moving at the far side of the room, but the little party was unobserved for now.

Pressing back into the shadows, Ali looked everyone over. The only injury looked to be on Bull, but the scratches along his chest were shallow and had already clotted over. Just in case, she made everyone tip back a restoration potion.

It might have been the fire, but something seemed off in Cullen's color, and he was definitely clenching his jaw. Ali looked around the temple with fresh eyes, noting the blood red crystals growing out of the walls.

_Oh shit._

She grabbed his elbow and turned him away from the group. "You okay commander?" She asked in a low voice.

Cullen swallowed heavily and met her eyes, not even trying to hide his strain. "It's... Different than what I'm used to. Like a minor key of a song I used to sing."

_Double shit._

Thinking hard, Ali considered sending him back to the horses, but he would have told her if it was more than he could bear. Instead, she pressed the Anchor to his chest, over his heart. "Remember what I said in your office? You swore fealty to me, and no song can change that. Are you my man, Commander?"

Something lightened in his eyes at the question and he pulled her hand away to kiss it formally. "I serve at the pleasure of the Inquisition."

"Good. Just remember that. Maybe hum something under your breath." Ali glanced to the side where Bull was blocking them from Varric’s view. "Maybe that one about lavender and rosemary."

She couldn't risk saying anything else, but she didn't have to. Based on the look he gave her, Cullen caught the meaning under her words. He lifted her hand again, but this time, his teeth scraped over her knuckles, and she knew that meant it was really a kiss.

*****

Oh Maker." Cullen breathed in horror. "It's Maddox."

It was horrible - the whole situation. Blightcap essence was an awful poison, and pretty far down the list of ways Ali would want to die. Ali didn't care that Varric and Sera were right beside her. She reached for Cullen instinctively, wrapping her little finger around his and squeezing hard. He didn't look away from the dying man, but he did lean into her a little, accepting the comfort she offered.

There was little to do but watch the poor man die. When his last spasm finally ceased, Sera knelt down and brushed his eyes shut, muttering something too low to catch. Ali squeezed Cullen one more time before releasing him and stepping away. She sent Varric and Sera to start looting the underlevel of the temple, and Bull offered to take Maddox’s body out to the horses.

Cullen’s eyes were suspiciously bright as he watched the Tranquil be carried out. As much as she wanted to wrap her arms around him and make it all better, there was a job to do. Nudging his shoulder, she nodded towards the desk while she went to search around in the crates.

“What was Samson like before?” It was a genuine question, but also one that she hoped would distract him a bit.

“Does it matter?” Cullen’s voice had a tired edge to it. “How much use is to know that someone used to be kind?”

Apparently he didn’t want to talk, Ali though with a shrug. They searched in silence for a minute or so until Cullen broke it with a muffled oath. “He left me a letter.”

“Really?” She was shocked, but not entirely. It was only a matter of time before Samson tried to exploit his connection to Cullen. “What does it say?”

  
"Drink enough lyrium and its song reveals the truth." He shook his head and tossed the letter back to the desk. "What does that even mean? What truth?" Without waiting for an answer, he bent and started rummaging through the drawers.

"Dunno." Ali looked up from where she was stamping out the smoldering remains of a wooden crate. "This much red lyrium would drive anyone mad and -"

A little click drew her attention and she dropped the rest of her thought. Something about that click screamed _danger!_ and she tossed out a barrier without even thinking – exactly when the trap in the drawer exploded with splashes of blue liquid and shards of red crystal, coating everything around the desk.

The blueness of her magic settled over Cullen at the same time the lyrium did.

*****

There was a woman in front of him - screaming like a banshee, but he didn't have time for her, not when the song was _so close_ , and its crescendo nearly drowning out whatever words she shouted at him.

Like his _name._

She was shouting his name, but not his title, like she knew him or was his equal in some way but no one was his equal except for Meredith. He ignored her, reaching up slowly to examine the splashes on his skin, wondering why they weren't soaking in, why the song was in his ears instead of his heart.

No matter, easy to solve. He bent to lick his fingers but they were dashed away before he could get a taste. Eyes ablaze, he looked at the stupid mage who had dared to touch him, this simpering little cunt who was screaming and crying and dared to get between him and his song.

But he recognized her, just a little bit. She bashed his chest with both fists and he reeled backwards, just the ghost of a memory of her mouth screaming his name in an entirely different way. He knew that sound well, had lived nearly a week with it. This was the demon that had tormented him, but instead of trying to slake his desire, she was trying to keep him from it.

Meredith's voice crackled through his head - _You've been a good Templar today so take some extra_ and Cullen knew he didn't deserve to taste the song until he'd dealt with the abomination in front of him.

She was still shoving him backwards, shouting something else now, something about a Bull. When she reeled up next, he grabbed her wrist and swung her around, slamming her into the wall and Purging all the little spells she thought to use on him

For an instant, the song got louder and he could almost sink down into it, but the demon's eyes narrowed and it receded again. Angry now, Cullen backhanded her across the face, but the sight of blood on her teeth just made another memory flicker in and out, dirt under him and cool hands on his face and a blood streaked smile that said…

The lyrium surged and it drowned out the words in his memory.

The little bitch wasn't resisting anymore, and her legs buckled underneath her. The song was still too far away, but it would come to him, because he was always such an obedient Templar, and he knew how to deal with abominations, oh yes he did.

He watched her slide down the wall and let her wrist go as her eyes fluttered shut. Just as he stepped in to start taking her apart, she slammed her arm up, catching him right between the legs and shattering his world into pain.

*****

Bull laid the body down as carefully as he could, arranging the poor man's limbs into something close to a respectful position. As he closed the boy's eyes, he brushed across the brand on his forehead and winced at the fact that it just felt like part of his skin.

He'd never tell the Boss this, or Dorian, but he didn't think there was anything that terrible about tranquility, when used correctly. It was a damn sight more pleasant than what happened to mages under the Qun, and sometimes people can just be too dangerous to leave alone.

But this... he was just a boy with a sweetheart, and Samson had bought his loyalty and life for nothing more than a handful of stolen letters. This wasn't how the world should work.

He laid a hand gently on the boy's chest before standing and heading back to the Temple. Once they'd picked it clean, they could bury the lad and get back on the road. With any luck, they could camp at the same place they had last night, and Cullen could sneak off with the Boss again. She'd earned it after today.

*****

Ali felt very little guilt about the way Cullen gagged when she hit him. One minute he'd been fine, but as soon as the trap had triggered…

There was nothing as horrible as the way he'd looked right past her when she'd called his name, his eyes glinting red behind the brown, somehow worse because they still looked like his eyes, in his face. The only thing worse was the way he'd started at the liquid running down his breastplate, and how calm he'd been as he'd slicked some up on his finger and brought it towards his mouth. She’d watched it happen in slow motion, sprinting to try to stop him, all the while hearing the echo of his words – _he used to be kind_.

Thank Andraste and the Maker and all of their friends that she'd gotten a barrier up in time. As long as it didn't touch his skin, the lyrium shouldn’t affect him physically. All she had to do was keep the barrier up until they could get it off him - but that got a lot harder when he tried to Purge all her spells away. She'd been able to get through it, but it was a near thing and had taken most of her mana to surge her power higher than his. There was no way she could do it again, so she had to deal with this right the fuck now.

But there was Red Lyrium all around them, and even she could hear the pull of it - the faint whisper of _power for nothing_ that stretched out through her mage-born senses. There was no sense in trying to help him here, and the rest of her friends were still following her orders and trying to find something on Samson. For the first time in a dozen years a terrifying thought flickered through her head – _a little of her blood could solve this right now_ – and that thought scared her enough to rally her into action.

So as soon as he took a step back and started to retch, Ali blasted him with as much force as she could. His armored body went spinning twenty feet in the direction of the door, and she gritted her teeth and did it again. Everything in the room was tossed to the side, and she dimly saw a bunch of papers catch on fire and light up.

She didn't care.

Every time Cullen got to his feet and looked towards her with those bloodshot eyes, she blasted him further to the outside. Her mana reserves were getting flickeringly low, and she opened her mouth to shout for Bull again. To her shock, she found that she was already screaming, and there were tears running down her face to boot.

Ali lost track of how many times she had to hit him - but finally, blessedly, they came to the great double doors that would get them outside. She was flagging, but tried to summon up the energy for one more big blast.

*****

Bull kicked away a crystal of lyrium as he trotted up the steps. The stuff wasn't overly dangerous in its dormant form - Dagna had figured out that as long as you didn't ingest it or get it under your skin, you were probably okay. It looked like the piece in Kirkwall was richer somehow - like its age and craftsmanship gave it a longer reach.

Although he was distracted by his thoughts, Bull recognized the sounds of screaming the moment he heard them. Without a moment of hesitation, he charged at the big doors and wrenched them open, barely missing getting slammed by Cullen as he flew out in a tangle of armor.

Bull took one look at the Boss’s face, taking in the tears, the anguish and the split lip all in one swoop. Without thinking, he hurled backwards and took Cullen down just as he found his feet. Bearing him back down to the ground and catching him in an immovable hold, he noted the streaks all over the smaller man and knew something had gone terribly wrong.

Alinora staggered up and fell to her knees beside them. “Trap. Lyrium. Have to get it off him.” She was white around the lips and was having trouble catching her breath, and when she reached out to the straps on his armor, her hands were shaking. Together, they got most of his plate stripped off, although Cullen thrashed in his arms and roared his frustrations.

“Boss…” Bull’s voice was gentle because he already knew the answer. “Do you have anything left?”

For as long as he lived, he would never forget the way her face crumpled at that question. She broke away from his gaze and looked over to Cullen, tears welling up in her eyes as he snarled at her. “No. And I have to keep the barrier up, or else…”

She searched his face, looking for something in particular. Before Bull could stop her, she leaned in and _licked_ up the side of his pretty jaw, sweeping up a streak of bright blue. There was no way to avoid the red crystals that scattered across the barrier, and she didn’t even try.

The change was immediate. Color rushed back into her cheeks, but it wasn’t the flush she normally had after a hit of lyrium. This looked like a fever, and she started to vibrate from the rush. Bull hadn’t ever seen this happen before, but he’d heard the stories from Cassandra.

He whispered something very dirty in Qunlat, but at Ali’s nod he released Cullen and skittered backwards, out of the way. Before the Commander could make a move, fire bloomed from his skin, racing across his face and down his limbs.

The barrier protected his clothes as well as his skin, but the sound he made was one of agony, of such suffering that Bull felt tears prick at his eye and he had to look away. Alinora didn’t – she was relentless, taking the flames to such a heat that they were nearly white.

Varric and Sera burst through the doors, summoned by the noise and eyes round from horror at the sight before him. Of everyone, he was the best person to have right now, so Bull moved back further and let the dwarf take his place next to Ali. Sera was utterly black with soot, but she held some objects close to her and stayed far back. Bull staggered over to her and she pressed against him immediately, hiding her face in his chest.

Ali finally let the fire drop, but replaced it with water. A torrent started above them, pressing Cullen into the mud and washing away the ashes of the lyrium. Only then did Varric reach out and whisper something to the Inquisitor, and she nodded weakly. Closing her eyes, she swayed on her knees for a second before she pitched forward and gagged, an unending stream of dirty water pouring from her nose and mouth.

*****

Cullen was surprised he’d had a nightmare – they’d been in short supply over these last months. But he’d been back there, both to the Gallows and to Kinloch Hold, chasing a demon and an abomination, trying to keep himself safe from them.

Then there had been pain, terrible agony that swept across him without release, making his skin crackle and fry. He’d hoped for death in that moment, but the pain never seemed to reach down far enough to end his suffering.

And then cool water on his face, and he wondered again why he didn’t move his bed further from the hole in the roof. No matter, it had to be close enough to dawn to be worth getting up and running drills.

Opening his eyes, he didn’t understand what he saw before him. It was the middle of the day, and the sun was bright in the sky. A gagging noise made him turn his head, and then suddenly, he remembered.

_Oh no. Not her._

Ali was on her knees a few feet away, retching piteously and shaking near to break her bones. Varric was beside her, stroking her back soothingly and whispering words of comfort.

“What?” Amazingly, his voice sounded fine, like this was a common situation to find oneself in.

Bull stepped forward, his expression grave. “A trap, I think. She had to get the lyrium off you.”

“Lyrium?” Understanding dawned, and he remembered the moment of awareness when he’d opened the drawer. “Is she okay?”

Though that was a pitifully understated way to ask, Bull seemed to understand. “She will be. You wiped her out, and she had to use what was there to burn it off you. But… you were covered in the red stuff too.”

He vaguely the sweep of a tongue over his face and he shuddered when he realized what she’d done. He tried to sit up, but failed, then tried to speak, but failed again.

Varric didn’t stop patting her back, but he did look up at Cullen. “She’ll be alright Curly. This has happened before. Mages burning lyrium – it’s like trying to get drunk by eating someone’s sick-up. Horrible and disgusting, but possible.”

Ali gave one more great heave and tipped over on her side, looking at him for the first time. And that was the worst thing of all, because after all of this – getting caught in a trap, attacking her, the lyrium – she should have looked at him like he was scum.

But she didn’t. Lying on her side in a puddle of mud, she looked up from the circle of Varric’s arms and all he saw on her face was relief.

And love.


	51. Chapter 51

They would never have made it back to camp if it weren’t for Bull. When Ali’s heaving finally stopped, she’d been unable to stand and had to be carried to the horses. Cullen could walk, but just barely. Sera lodged herself under his armpit, and Varric trailed behind laden down with his armor and the findings from the temple.

Every few minutes Ali had to stop and gag out more dirty water. That was the process, Varric explained – use the lyrium to produce water, then use it to wash away the ashes it left behind. It was disgusting, and every time she did it Cullen wanted to drop to his knees and sob. But there had been enough weakness from him today, so he just concentrated on getting his feet to move, forcing one more step, then another.

Once they got back to the horses, things got even worse. It was clear that Ali couldn’t support herself enough to ride alone, or even sit up straight. In the end, they had to tie her to her saddle with Sera perched behind to help her vomit. Watching Bull wrap rope around Ali's waist was gut wrenching, so Cullen busied himself getting Maddox's body loaded on the spare horse.

He got on his own mount gingerly - Ali hadn't hit him that hard, but sitting astride a horse still wasn't exactly comfortable. Varric eyed him warily, but Cullen wouldn't dream of complaining about a thing like that, not when he couldn’t stop staring at how his best friend kept tilting out of her saddle. Every foot away from the temple left him feeling better, but Ali stayed on the edge of unconsciousness for the whole ride.

By the time they stopped to camp, a bruise had bloomed across her jaw, swollen and purple where he’d smacked her into the wall. He could feel it in his knuckles still, remember the satisfaction he’d had in the moment at the sound he skull made against the stone. He could barely look at the mark it had left, but he kept forcing himself to do it – paying penance for the harm he’d caused. She caught him looking and made a silly face - but he refused to take solace in that. He didn’t deserve it.

They camped in the same place as the night before. Bull lifted her off the horse as tenderly as a baby while Sera busied herself starting a fire. Varric grabbed the shovel and headed into the woods to start digging a grave. Once she was on her feet, Ali swayed but didn’t fall and nodded towards the sound of water. She hadn't spoken since the temple and her voice was harsh and rasping. “Baths all around please. Cullen needs to scrub.”

Bull didn’t say anything, just hefted her up into his arms again and started walking away. Cullen took the soap that Sera handed him and followed, silent and shocky. He made it down the trail, trying as hard as he could not to remember the way he’d crept down it not even a day ago. Then, he’d been nothing but excited, hopeful that the evening would go well, and frankly, rock-hard with anticipation at what he was going to do. Now, he just felt old and dirty and useless.

It didn’t matter that the trap would have been there either way. Lyrium splashing on anyone else would be an inconvenience, not an emergency. If he hadn’t come along, she wouldn’t have needed to use all her mana, wouldn’t have had to burn anything red. It was his weakness that had left her shaking and sick, his failings that had literally choked her.

At the water, Bull kept his pants on, but stripped Ali down to her skin. There was nothing sexual in it, but it was still difficult to watch the way she slumped back onto him. She was utterly spent, and moved like her bones ached. Other bruises had bloomed along her shoulder and hip, and he knew those were from the wall too. She noticed his gaze and lifted the side of her mouth. “Get your kit off, boy.”

That was what she’d said in her room during the blizzard, and he would do anything to go back to that night right now. There, she was warm and safe and whole, and he wished he’d behaved differently back then. He could have told her… well, it didn’t matter now. There was no changing what had happened. She'd trusted in his strength, and he'd failed her.

He stripped down as quickly as he could and stepped into the water. If walking the path had been difficult, this was nearly impossible. Just a few hours ago, they’d been here together, against the rock that was only a few steps away. When he’d gotten to stand below her with her thighs wrapped around his ears, he’d truly thought that the Maker had finally smiled down on them. He had wanted to stay between her legs forever, where she was sweet and soft, but then she’d made it even better. Rocking in his lap had felt _real_ , and he tried to cling to the way he’d felt when she’d whispered in his ear. It hadn’t been happiness or joy, although that had been there too. No, what Cullen had felt the night before was _serenity_ , the calm assurance that he was where he was meant to be.

It was no use. Now the water just felt cold, and no matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn’t shed a speck of the guilt. Whatever truth he'd found the night before was gone now, wiped away by the reality of his limitations.

Ali was talking to Bull in a low voice as he swiped a cloth over her arms and hands. He didn’t look happy about whatever she was saying, but he finally nodded and looked towards Cullen. “Can you take her from here Commander? I need to check on the littles.”

Cullen nodded, surprised, but willing to do literally whatever was asked of him right now. As Bull trudged up towards camp, Ali gestured him over with a tired crook of her finger. She was sitting on a ledge, so their eyes were level when he approached. She didn’t say anything, just ran an appraising gaze over him. Taking a deep breath, she seemed to steel herself before tentatively reaching for his face.

Cullen stood still, staring at her as she closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his jaw. She was concentrating hard, and he tried to see if it was causing her pain. It was hard to tell - she was already in so much pain from the injuries he’d inflicted on her that he genuinely couldn’t tell if this was worse. At last she dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “I think you’re clear.”

“Clear?” Standing this close to her was hard, and he knew his voice sounded strained.

“Of the lyrium,” she clarified. “I don’t think there’s any left on either of us. Can you… um… hear anything?”  
“Oh.” All at once, Cullen realized the enormity of the situation, and of her question. He closed his own eyes and concentrated hard. There was the familiar craving deep in his chest, but it didn’t seem any worse than one of his bad days in Skyhold. Beyond that there was nothing, no song aside from the few traces that always floated around mages.

“No. You got it all.” He almost reached out to brush her cheek, but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead, he boosted himself up next to her without touching any of her skin. “What happened in there?”

Ali shrugged and averted her eyes. “A trap, like we said. Samson tried to tempt you with red lyrium. I couldn’t let it touch you, so I put a barrier up and got you outside.”

She trailed off, and he realized she wasn’t going to answer the rest of it without prompting and his temper flared. “Magelet, I know all that. But you took the red lyrium yourself?!?”

Flinching, Ali snapped her eyes up. “Maker, Cullen, don’t act like it's such a big deal. I had to take the red to get to the blue - I was totally wiped out. And mages can take red lyrium - it just isn’t pleasant.” She stopped for a minute, but started talking again when he raised his eyebrows.

“Solas was the one who figured it out first, back when we were in the Exalted Plains. Smashing the crystals seems to disrupt them, so we tried other things. Lighting it on fire is good, but he learned you could turn it to water, and either way the corruption doesn’t take hold. From there, he posited that we could probably use it like the blue. He had to once, and then we knew. You have to use up everything though, all the lyrium and all your own mana. Once it’s all gone, it comes back clean.”

“So you’ve done this before?” Cullen’s voice was flat.

“Well… yes. I run across a lot of the shit, and I like to destroy it properly. Solas taught me how to do it and I taught Viv and Dorian. Don’t let on about that part though - Bull doesn’t know Dorian has tried it. We’ve all had run-ins with it since then, and there have been times I’ve had to burn it off of everybody. I probably should have told you, but I didn’t want to you worry.”

 

“Didn’t want me to…” Cullen trailed off and looked up at the sky, thinking of how he would have lectured her if he’d known this was an option she was choosing. It was a choice - not a good one, but she’d chosen to risk infection. The fact that it had happened before didn’t seem to make this instance any easier for him to bear. But that was his problem, not hers. Ali didn’t look like she wanted to explain anymore, and she obviously didn’t think what had happened was a big deal. She was his boss, and she had done what she thought best under the circumstances. And under the ones they had now, there was only one thing he could say.

“Thank you,” he said calmly, reaching for her hand. “Thank you for saving me.”

A blush stained her cheeks. “Anytime Commander. I’d hate to have to lead my own armies. And look on the bright side - we’re finally naked together.”

Heat rose in his own cheeks as he looked down instinctively. That part hadn’t occurred to him and he started laughing immediately. He realized she was trying to lighten the mood, and decided that the rest of the conversation could wait awhile. She was exhausted, and he could pretend to be okay until she was asleep.

"Take me. Take me hard." He deadpanned.

Just as hoped, she snorted with laughter. "Oh Maker, what a day." She was looking more alert now, but her whole face was lined with worry and fatigue. "Are... Are we okay?"

That was the question he'd hoped she wouldn't ask. For the first time ever, Cullen opened his mouth and lied to his best friend. "Yeah Magelet. We're fine."

*****

After a dinner around the fire, they examined their gleanings from the Temple. The pile looked pitifully small compared to the effort to get it, but Cullen knew they’d worked with less before. Varric was the one who poked through it - as a dwarf, he was in slightly less danger of magical influence than the rest of them.

Most of it seemed to be a collection of tools that Sera had gathered, but Ali recognized them as being used to work lyrium. She didn’t examine them closely, just packaged them up for Dagna to study. The rest of the pile looked like trash, but Varric picked through it nonetheless. He pulled out several sheets of paper and read them carefully, his jaw tight. “More nonsense, Junebug. Same as the stuff you got in the Dales.”

Cullen’s voice cracked when he spoke up. “Did you find anything else in the desk?”

Ali winced. “No, it all went into the fire. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but getting you out of there.”

Across the way, Sera made a noise like a fart. “Who cares? It would just be more of his crazy making, right? Blah blah, I’m a god, you all are ants. Who cares what Cory-spits thought. We’ve got the tools, right? Tools plus Dagna equals dead Samson, I’m thinking.”

Ali nodded, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Sera volunteered to take first watch, and Bull took Ali towards her tent. Cullen almost followed them, wanting to say something to Ali. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt a powerful urge to reassure himself that she was okay. Varric stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, saying, “Let her rest. She’ll still be here in the morning.”

*****

A few hours later, Cullen awoke with a start. There had been a nightmare of course - he was back on the Wounded Coast with Hawke, but this time, red crystals were poking out of Bethany’s eyes when they got her up from her enchanted sleep. Samson had been there, and Hawke had kissed him before turning on Cullen, taunting him with his failures.

The tent felt hot, and too close around him. He hadn’t had any trouble with claustrophobia on this trip, but tonight it felt like his blankets were a cage. Sera was snuggled in close to him and murmuring in her sleep, and he thanked his lucky stars that he hadn’t hurt her in his thrashings. He rolled out the other way and burst out of the tent into the cool night air.

 

The fire had burned down almost to cinders, but the glow of coals silhouetted a figure lying on the ground. Cullen recognized Ali immediately, and he crept over to where she lay. He didn’t think she had any troubles sleeping, but if she was ever gonna have nightmares, this would be the night they would find her. She must have felt the same urge to get out from under cover, to seek solace in the still of the darkness.

She was sleeping soundly, head pillowed on her arm away from the fire, curled under the blanket she must have brought out with her. Cullen sat down beside her, then stretched out an arms length away. There would be no more sleep for him tonight, and although he knew someone would be on watch, he could at least make sure she was safe until dawn.

For all that Ali had grown into her role as Inquisitor, today had made one thing clear. She would risk her own life for the sake of his, and that was something that he could not accept. This was why they had the deal they did - saving the world was more important than anything else, and they couldn’t let themselves fall in love.

 _But we did anyway_ , Cullen thought. In spite of all their carefulness, the secrecy and rules, it had happened and he couldn’t deny it anymore.

 _I love her_.

This wasn’t a new thought, but it was one that he never let sit in his mind. Usually when it bloomed, he pushed it aside with thoughts of duty, of the Inquisition. Now, laying on the hard ground, he let the realization settle and linger.

He’d loved her for ages, he realized. At least since the Winter Palace, but probably even before. Haven, maybe. Not in the Chantry when she turned to him with despair in her eyes, but after, when a flash of green against the snow told him that in spite of all the odds, she had survived. That was it, he decided. That was when he started to love her.

And if there was one thing today had proven to him, it was that she loved him. Really and truly, in all the ways that little boys and girls dream about finding one day, the way that poet and bards write odes about. She knew all the terrible parts of him, all the things he had done and not done, and she loved him anyway. That thought should have warmed him, but all it did was leave him aching and hollow.

Because she loved him, she had kept him safe today, made sure nothing happened to him. But that was the problem, right there. Not that something would happen to him, but that it wouldn’t. Instead of completing the mission, she had let precious intelligence burn rather than let him fight with the lyrium again. When he’d threatened her, she should have put him down hard and not tried to get him out of the Temple.  

As the night faded and dawn broke, Cullen stared at her face, trying to map it out, memorize every bit of her. For the rest of his life, he knew he'd think of her like this and he wanted it fixed indelibly in his mind. The way her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed, thick and dark even without the smear of kohl across them. The tiny white line on her forehead - just the barest hint of a scar left over from their bout. Cullen was darkly pleased that he'd marked her in some way - that for the rest of her life, she'd carry a reminder of him.

He tried to count the spray of freckles across her pert nose but lost count and had to start again. A little puff of air escaped her lips, and he was lost in the way they parted in her sleep. Very carefully, he traced his finger along her full bottom lip, thinking of all the times he'd felt it against his skin or seen it curve into a smile at the sight of him. Was he really never going to get to kiss her?

No, he decided. He wouldn't take that from her, wouldn't doom her and their cause through his own selfishness. That's all he'd done for his whole life - abandoning his family to join the Templars without a thought to his parent's needs; demanding the eradication of an entire Circle based on his own temptations; then standing complacent as a mad woman terrorized a city, all out of fear that what - he might die? Might be judged a failure? Might be alone? That road had brought him nothing but ashes, and it was only through the grace of Andraste that he had even a chance to atone.

So he would, even if it shattered the basest parts of him to do it. Alinora was more than the Inquisitor, more than the Herald of Andraste. She was fire and steel, wonder and ruin, and he had never deserved anything that she gave him. He'd proven that today, proven that he was her weak point, the chink in her armor that would drag her down with him. To survive this, he needed to serve the Inquisitor as Commander, and he couldn’t serve Alinora as Cullen. If he was a different man, then maybe they could have built something, could have stood strong in sight of the abyss, but he was just himself, a broken and battered farmer's son who was good with a sword.

She'd told him once that he had a strong heart, and he hoped it was strong enough to get him through this. Lightly, he brushed a finger across her forehead and whispered, "Luck, my lady." That had to be enough - there was nothing more he could offer her. This was not a conversation to have on the road, but he knew there was no way he could spend days beside her and still do what he must.

As quietly as he could, he rolled away from her and stood, grabbing his pack and heading for the horses. He only made it a few steps out of camp before he heard Bull rise from behind him - it was his watch, and he'd probably seen Cullen wake up and leave.

Cullen ignored him, choosing instead to saddle his horse. Bull didn't say anything, just came over to help with the bridle. He rubbed a hand across the horse's velvet nose, letting the warm breath waft across his chilled hands. "Are you seeing something that I'm not?"

Bull was silent for a long time, until he finally spoke in a low voice. "No. I’m not." Bull handed the parcel of tools. "You have to do it clean. You can't -" His voice broke and he stamped his foot at his own emotion. "She won't accept it. She doesn’t see the world the way we do."

Cullen nodded, staring down at his boots. "I know. If I want to keep her alive, I have to break her heart, and I know all the ways I can hurt her if I need to." Blinking quickly, he forced his roiling emotions back down below a veneer of calm. "Will you take care of her? After?"

Without warning, Bull wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him into his bare chest. Cullen couldn't remember if he'd ever been hugged quite so completely, but he still squawked in outrage for forms sake. Bull patted him roughly on the back and said matter of factly, "I won’t need to. You're the one who keeps her safe, and that's still what you're doing. Now get on the horse and get going. I'll delay her as long as I can."

With one last agonized look towards where she slept, Cullen began leading his horse towards the road. It was fruitless, he knew, but maybe if he rode fast enough and hard enough, he could outrun what he had to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are Firefly quotes in this one to make it go down easier. I don't think they helped.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that things have to get worse before they get better.

Ali leapt up the stairs two at a time, barely managing to make her courtesies to the soldiers she passed as she dashed to Cullen's office. The last few days had been agony. When she’d woken in camp nearly a week ago, Bull had explained simply that Cullen had ridden ahead to get their intelligence to Dagna as quickly as possible. It all made sense, but there was a shadow of grief on Bull’s face that had chilled her to the core.

She’d tried not to obsess about him, and had almost succeeded by filling her days with time with Sera and Varric, and her nights with meditation to recover from the red lyrium. But the closer they got to Skyhold, the worse it got - there was a terrible feeling rotting in the pit of her stomach and she wanted it gone as soon as possible. They’d ridden hard, even for her, but she couldn’t justify taking any extra time getting home. She was recovered from the temple, mostly, but she still felt exhausted and bedraggled as she rode into the fortress.

Ali knocked on his door and fidgeted madly for the few seconds it took for him to yell "Enter." Pushing it open, she saw the look on his face and knew instantly that things were worse than she thought. Over the last months, she'd grown used to the way his eyes lit up when he saw her, even if they'd seen each other just moments before. He was looking at her like she was a stranger - no, it was worse than that. He was looking at her like he did those first few days at Haven, like she was a particularly decorative houseplant - pretty, but utterly without substance. He stared, eyebrow arched, waiting for her to speak first.

"Commander." The words felt flat in her mouth, and she tried not to shuffle her feet. "We've returned."

He turned away from her, grubbing through the papers on his desk. “I know. I heard the shouting from the battlements.”

_So why didn’t you come see me,_ she almost said. Instead, she planted her feet and tried to think of something innocuous, something to ease them into this so she could try to gauge what was wrong. “Did you have any trouble on the road?”

“No.” His voice was flat. “I made good time, and Dagna thinks she can use the tools we found. It’s too early to know for sure though. She had to run some experiments that will take a few weeks.”

“I see.” In all the times she’d been in his office, it had never felt this airless and unwelcome. Every muscle in her body was telling Ali that she needed to act, or react, or somehow change the stilted flow of this moment. Biting her lip for courage, she tentatively asked, “Didn’t you want to have a conversation when we got back to Skyhold?”

Cullen slammed a folder down on his desk, looking for all the world like she was bothering him just by her presence. “I did yes, but under the circumstances….”

“What circumstances?” The bad feeling in her stomach had grown and a cold sweat had broken on her forehead. This was bad, very bad, but she couldn’t determine what the damage was. Desparately, she threw her senses out, but there was no trace of lyrium on him, no chance that he’d relapsed while she was on the road.

"Don't you think we have more pressing concerns than whatever girlish feelings you're suffering?" He asked snidely.

Girlish feelings? Ali felt a little dizzy but she didn't step back. "If this is about what happened at the Temple we should talk about it-"

"No." He cut her off abruptly and faced her head on, propping his hands on his sword hilt and staring her down. "We will not talk about it. You were unprofessional and stupid, but I can only blame myself for indulging you this long."

She reeled back like he’d struck her. Maybe she was back in the Fade with the nightmare - that had to be it. Ali couldn't believe this was real, that he'd really just did - "indulging me?"

"Lady Trevelyan, I proposed this arrangement to keep you happy. We needed you to accept your role as Inquisitor, and I felt that a more personal connection might accustom you to your position."

“What? So that’s why you came to me in Griffon Wing? To accustom me?” Her voice was shrill, and she didn’t care. The implication that all of his favors had really just been favors to the Inquisition made her blood run cold, and she almost started shivering.

He didn’t seem to notice her tone. “Yes. But you seem to have allowed your feelings towards me to grow well beyond professional lines, and you are putting the Inquisition at risk. As my feelings are not a reflection of yours, our liaison must now be at an end.” He sat down behind his desk and gave a ghost of a smirk. “Please don't take this as a personal insult. I've quite enjoyed our time together. Although most of my experience has been with more... professional paramours, you were quite on the same caliber.”

It was the comparison to a whore that got her, pierced right through the icy pain to jolt her heart. That was so far beyond the pale that it had to be intentional - _but why was he trying to hurt her_?

Thoughts tumbled though Ali's mind, although they stayed too far out of reach to grab. She felt shocky and off-balance, like the whole world had gone just slightly out of sync. She felt slow, and dim, and so terribly heavy - too weighed down by his words to even start parsing through them.

Cullen was still talking, some long pompous speech about bootstraps and the problem with mages, and she suddenly couldn't take another moment of this. She was so tired, and every stupid word that came out of his mouth felt like a body blow. With some effort, she straightened her back and let her nobility come sweeping down around her. She hadn't had to do this in front of Cullen for over a year, but she remembered how it went. Shoulders back, eyes up, hands still, jaw relaxed, breathing even - the old familiar armor of her manners brought her back to herself, gave her enough room for a thought to appear.

She raised a hand imperiously, and Cullen - blessedly - shut his stupid mouth. “Commander, while I appreciate your explanation, I have only just returned to Skyhold and I have several other demands on my time. I will expect your report regarding the temple in the War Room tomorrow.”

Ignoring his look of distaste, she turned away blindly and pushed through the door. She'd meant to come out the way she'd gone in, but instead of Solas's solar she saw the battlements. One of Cullen's lieutenants was walking towards her, so she darted down the stairs towards the safety of the stables. She needed to think, needed to work this over in her mind but she didn’t want to be alone. If Blackwall was there, she could help him with his woodworking and he wouldn’t pry into her thoughts.

*****

Blackwall wasn’t in his usual place, but that was okay. The stable meant solitude and horsey smells, a chance to catch her breath and try to make sense of a world suddenly gone dark and cold. The horses were making soft little whooshing sounds, and one of her favorite mounts neighed in greeting when she came close.

Ali still couldn’t believe that Cullen, her Cullen, had looked her in the eye and said those things to her. She’d been so sure of them, sure they were finally going to move forward. The thought of losing him – _you already lost him_ – made her choke, so she looked around for a distraction. The workbench was covered with the same sort of detritus it always was – sawdust, wood shavings, and scraps of plans, but something else caught her eye.

It was a letter, folded neatly and propped against the rocking horse with _Inquisitor_ across the front in neat black letters. The sight of it sent a chill down her spine, but she tried to tell herself that she was just being paranoid, what with the way her heart had just been ripped out and all. Sighing, she grabbed the note and ripped it open.

_Inquisitor,_

_You’ve been a friend and an inspiration. You’ve given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former._

_It’s been my honor to serve you._

Ali put the letter down with shaking fingers, wondering what she ever could have done to piss off the Maker so much. Losing Blackwall on the day she lost Cullen – _because he thinks you’re a whore and he never liked you anyhow_ \- felt like kicking her when she was down. There was no explanation for the Warden leaving her service, but she knew there had to be one.

Under other circumstances, she would never have violated a friend’s privacy this way, but right now she didn’t care. Cullen didn’t love her – _why should anyone ever love you_ \- , and she couldn’t - _wouldn’t, keep your pride and don’t grovel_ – try to change his mind about that, but maybe she could do something to help Blackwall.

It took her five minutes to find it. Five minutes of tearing through his things, bashing open his chest and digging under the straw mattress to find the reason Blackwall had abandoned her – _they’ll all abandon you because you are worthless_. It was there – a first draft of the letter he’d left for her and she smoothed it out with bated breath, hoping for an explanation of why the world was taking and _taking and leaving her a shell of a useless spoiled mage._

Thom Rainier? Who the _fuck_ was Thom Rainier?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. This was hard to write. 
> 
> I'll try to keep the updates coming more quickly, but there will still be some lagtime.


	53. Chapter 53

Cullen stared at the door that Ali had stormed through, marveling at how effective his terrible words had been. That was, after all, the goal. At first, he’d just meant to talk to her, to explain his concerns about what they were doing and how she’d acted. The more he thought about it though, the more he realized that if he left himself any opening at all, he would be trying to get her back into his arms within the week.

No, he needed her to hate him.

So he’d said every horrible thing he could, tried to poke at all of her sore spots and find some new ones. Hurt had bloomed in her eyes, and he nearly gagged when he remembered her sweet voice saying _I've never been afraid you would hurt me, honey_. But he pushed through, and kept talking and the hurt had turned to hate and she’d swept out of his office, noble as a queen. The worst part might have been how proud he was of her in that moment, how impressed he was with her bearing and grace under pressure. Maker how he loved her, and Maker how she deserved better than what he’d given her.

But now she was gone and the deed was done. All he could do now was try to be her Commander, to find a way to end this war and give her the freedom she deserved. He focused on Dagna’s report instead of thinking of the terrible choice he’d made; trying to resist the temptation to run after her, to fall at her feet and take it all back, beg her to forgive him.

“Did you know about this?!?”The door slammed open and rebounded off the wall, nearly hitting Ali in the shoulder as she stormed back into his office in a cloud of fury.

She hadn’t looked good when she’d left earlier, but this was something else. She’d been angry certainly, and hurt beyond all measure, but the woman before him now was full of rage in a way that he’d never seen her before. Her anchor was pulsing a sickly green color, and tiny sparks of lightning were popping off her skin.

Cullen’s first thought was to hide under his desk and hope she came back later, but he figured that would only make things worse. Instead, he put the report down and took a parade rest stance. “Did I know about what, Inquisitor?”

She didn’t seem to notice his formality, or maybe she just didn’t care. She brandished a piece of paper at him like it was a weapon. “Did you know about Blackwall?”

Blackwall? Cullen couldn’t imagine what he had to do with anything and concern drowned out some of his pain. “Inquisitor, I’m not sure what you mean? Is something wrong with the man?”

Ali opened her mouth to shout again, but couldn’t seem to find words. Instead, she just thrust the paper at Cullen helplessly. He scanned the lines quickly, then looked up, confused. “I didn’t know about this. Thom Rainier? Who is that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and hissed through gritted teeth. “He’s the man who used to live in my stables. And Leliana knew that Thom Rainier is _not_ Gordon Blackwall. And above everything else, he isn’t a Warden.”

Understanding crashed over him like a ton of bricks, and Cullen staggered back a step. Pieces of overheard conversations and old suspicions clicked into a horrible new picture. “Not a Warden? Then…”

“Yeah.” Ali’s voice was dry, but she looked like a woman ready to watch the world burn. “Get everyone to the War Room. Immediately, and no excuses.”

*****

Ali had never felt worse than she did that evening. She was still exhausted from the road, and badly wanted a bath and a few days in bed. The fact that she wanted someone else in that bed with her –

_Table that shit right now, Trevelyan. You’ll have time enough to deal with him later._

Instead of a long luxurious rest, she tried to content herself with a handful of lyrium potions filched from Solas’s study. He had some kind of bread and cheese there too, so Ali crammed that in her mouth without tasting it.

The lyrium helped enough that she started to feel almost human. When she stormed into the main hall, she fell into step beside Dorian. He gave her a sweeping glance and waved a hand imperiously as they walked. Ali felt her clothes get a little less sticky, and she gave him a thankful glance for the thoughtful spell.

And then Cole was there, holding the door open for them and pressing something into Ali’s hand. It was a coin, she saw, an old Fereldan sovereign, worn nearly blank from long handling.

She turned it over in her hand, wondering what in Thedas it was for. “Cole, I don’t understand. Is this supposed to help?”

Cole looked at her piercingly and shook his head. “It’s for luck.”

Ali nodded and tucked it away – there were problems enough that she would take her luck where she could find it and the idea of questioning Cole right now made her head spin.

The War Room usually felt very large – but then, there were usually only five people there instead of the dozen or so that packed in now. Her advisors were clustered together in a tight cluster, and she eyed them warily as she took her usual place at the map.

There were mutterings and whispers as everyone settled – while they had all been in the War Room at one time or another, there had never been cause for everyone to gather here at once. The room felt both too close and too expansive, and everything seemed a little too bright.

Once silence fell, Ali picked up the marker that represented the Inquisitor and slammed it down over Val Royeaux. “We have a problem. To make a long story very short, Warden Blackwell is an impostor by the name of Thom Rainier.”

She’d done her best to keep an eye on everyone in the room, and noticed that everyone showed surprise except for Leliana and Josephine.

_Just as I suspected._

“Thom Rainier, you say?” Vivienne’s voice was laced with tension. “I have heard of his crimes. Murder, as I recall. It was years ago, under Gaspard.”

Ali nodded, thankful for The Iron Lady’s iron calm. “That’s the one. He has taken himself to Val Royeaux to face judgement for his crimes. I will be leaving shortly to retrieve him, but I need to know who knew of this deception.”

Josephine looked up with something like hope in her eyes, but Ali didn’t miss the way her fingers were trembling. “You’re going to get him?”

Huffing, Ali wished for smarter advisors. “That man had access to all the Inquisition’s secrets. He knows every watchword, every piece of intelligence we have. Leaving him in a jail cell is an invitation for Corypheus and his minions.”

Sera looked unconvinced, so Ali focused in on her. “I know you respect him, but do you really want to risk the safety of the Red Jennies?”

The little elf nodded begrudgingly. Ali looked around and was almost tempted to let it go at that. But no, if she was going to feel this terrible, someone else ought to as well. “Does anyone have any other questions? Perhaps our spymaster would care to share why she didn’t have this information before?”

Leliana’s eyes glittered from under her hood as she straightened her back. “I knew. Yes. I did not think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant?” Of all the excuses she could have made, that one was utterly laughable. “He isn’t a Warden!” Ali wondered why Cullen had seen the ramifications immediately when everyone else was so slow on the uptake, but she dashed the thought away. Having him in the room felt like twisting the knife he’d shoved in her back, and she couldn’t bear to think of him at all. “Rainier isn’t a Gray Warden. This whole time, every mission he’s been on, we’ve trusted him to protect us from Darkspawn.”

Varric’s eyes narrowed as he put it together, no doubt remembering how Blackwall had reassured the atrocious Bianca when they were in Valammar. There were other nods of understanding, and even Cassandra looked a little green as she considered the implications.

“What possible reason could you have for allowing an imposter to remain at Skyhold?” Ali forced the words out, trying to keep from shouting.

Leliana looked around the room frantically, but was stopped from speaking by a hand on her wrist. "Because I love him." Josie's voice was very quiet, but she spoke with a calm assurance that made Ali want to scream. "I love him, and he loves me, and so we never told."

"How long?" Ali couldn’t believe she’d never put _that_ together, but she wasn’t about to throw stones for a secret relationship. The rest of it though…

"Since the night you killed your first dragon." Josie flicked her eyes up, glancing between Ali and Leliana. "After we left the tavern, I stumbled and he caught me and..."

"Yes, I'm sure it will be a romance for the ages." Ali tried to keep the venom from her voice, but knew she failed. "The minor noble and the escaped murderer. I don't care when you fell in love, when did you know he was a sham?"

"Oh." Josie colored and looked back down at the table. "Before - before Adamant. When I came back to Skyhold, he told me on the road. He didn't want me to worry about the Calling..."

She’d been holding out hope that somehow, no one had known about Blackwall until very recently, so the real timeframe landed like a punch. She wondered how much more she could possibly take tonight, then realized it didn't matter - she'd take whatever she had to, because they’d left her no other choice.

"You are my advisors! How dare you not tell me? We cannot keep secrets like this at this level of the Inquisition!" The words burst forth before she could think them through, but based on the way Leliana's head snapped up, they had been a mistake.

“You don’t keep secrets?” Leliana wasn’t quiet anymore as she raced to defend her friend. “Then why do Cullen's fingers reek of your cunt?!”

For the second time that night, the room was suddenly airless and Ali thought she might faint. It wasn’t just having the secret revealed to the room at large. It was the vulgarity of it, the way Leliana’s declaration made the whole situation feel so tawdry and meaningless, just like the way Cullen had made her feel earlier.

The whole room was utterly silent, so the sound of Ali’s hand connecting with Leliana’s cheek was loud enough to nearly echo. The slap was a mistake – instead of giving vindication, all it had done was confirm what Leliana had said. Ali watched the red mark bloom on her face dispassionately before stating tonelessly, “Your information is once again insufficient, spymaster. Not one hour ago, the Commander informed me that he wishes to discontinue our friendship on account of his lack of affection towards me.”

Everyone in the room had been staring at Ali, but now they all turned to stare at Cullen instead. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the attention at all. After a long moment, Varric broke the silence. “You lied to me?"

Just like that, the room had air again and Ali realized just how angry she was at every person she thought loved her. “I said he never kissed me, and that’s true. Or didn’t you know that you aren’t supposed to kiss whores?”

There was a general gasp at that, and Ali risked a glance at Cullen. He was staring at the map impassively, but his lips were very white.

_Serves you right you rat fucking bastard._

"That’s not how it was." Bull growled, thrusting out his chest and trying to restore order.

Dorian turned, looking disgusted. "You knew about this? And you didn't tell me?"

Everyone started talking at once, shouting over each other. Cassandra was saying something about _command structures,_ Sera was babbling about _ridden hard and put away wet_ , and Cole seemed to be chanting dogs and _wolves and coins and moons and loud_.

"Enough!!!"

Ali's shout ricocheted around the room accompanied by the sudden burst of sickly green light that surged from her hand. She stared around the room, eyeing each person in turn. With conscious effort, she made her voice ring with certainty. "Every one of you pledged yourself to the Inquisition and to my cause. If I step down as Inquisitor, who among you will fill my shoes?"

The room was silent expect for the twanging of Bianca as Varric nervously cocked and uncooked her. Ali stared particularly hard at Leliana, but her spymaster just seemed fascinated by the depiction of the frozen waste on the table in front of them.

“I thought so. And as fascinating as it will be for you all to discuss who did what to whom, there are bigger issues than if in fact Cullen got his cock wet.” The vulgar expression made his stupid face go even whiter, and Ali savored the small flash of triumph.

“If I take the Bog Unicorn, I can be in Val Royeaux in a day or so. Cu-” She caught his name as a choke and didn’t care who noticed “The Commander will follow with his soldiers. Bring Mistress Poulin as a sweetener, and I think I can convince the Empress to agree to an exchange of prisoners. Her crime is much newer, and her execution will be more stylish.”

Cullen nodded, looking more settled now that he had a job to do. It occurred to Ali that everyone could probably benefit from having a task, and she thought frantically about what they could all do.

“Cassandra, you are acting Commander while he is away. I want everything checked, and double checked. Change the patrol schedules and all the passwords. Whatever intelligence Rainier took with him, make it all useless.”

The Seeker nodded, her jaw tight. She looked like she had something to say, but when she stayed silent, Ali moved on.

"Varric, I need a Warden. Bethany Hawke is somewhere in the Free Marches and I want you to find out what she knows. If she doesn't know how to kill an archdemon, try to get word to Anders. Abomination or not, the man served under the Hero of Ferelden."

Varric nodded, silent at last. Next to Ali, Leliana raised her head and started to speak, "Alistair could -"

Ali cut her off with a wave of her hand, not even deigning to look directly at her trio of advisors. "No. If we need to speak to the King, I'll do it myself. Although..." Here Ali paused and looked Leliana and Josie over, wrinkling her nose as if she found them wanting. "Just to be sure you don't cause any more trouble, you'll need handlers."

Ignoring their gasps, she turned to the other side of the table, the side populated by people she hated just a little bit less. "Vivienne, you'll shadow Josie. I want you in every meeting with every noble, and no agreement will be bound without your approval. Bull, you're the new spymaster. You see all raven messages, and nothing goes out without your say-so. If she tries to do an end-run around your authority, your orders are to take her immediately into the custody of the Chargers with all necessary force. Understood?"

The two of them nodded in unison. Bull stepped back into the corner, trying to make himself smaller, but Vivienne just stood there, head cocked, staring Ali down. "My dear, have you given a thought to _how_ you might retrieve him from gaol?"

Ali bit back the harsh words that sprung to mind, reminding herself that Vivienne was still on her very short list of _people she didn't want to toss into the Fade._ "No."

"Hmm. If you'll excuse the vulgar suggestion, dearest, the jailer in charge has a bit of a reputation. If it comes to it, you could probably..." Vivienne swept her eyes up and down, leaving no doubt as to what she meant.

"Thank you for the insight." Ali should have been offended, but she knew Viv wasn't trying to be offensive, might in fact be aiming this barb at Cullen. It didn’t signify either way – she was past worrying about her reputation.

 _Maker, will this night ever end?_ Looking around the room, she sized up her allies, trying to determine who could be trusted with what. Everyone seemed to be in various stages of shock, but a rocking motion drew her attention. Cole was in the corner pressing himself against the wall and shaking. She’d forgotten about him, but now she felt a surge of empathy for the Compassionate boy who had to be feeling all the feelings in the room.

“Cole, go saddle up the Bog Unicorn, and then I need you to stay with the horses. They won't understand that Blackwall is gone, so you'll need to explain things to them, keep them company."

"I can do that." Cole nodded gratefully before backing out of the room. "I'll help them."

 _Who’s left?_ "Sera, work your Jennies. I need to know what the response to Blackwall is, what the buzz is in the houses. Whatever happens, we'll need to control the reactions, and that means boots on the ground."

She nodded, fingering the end of her bow, but staying uncharacteristically silent as she gave Cullen the mother of all side-eyes. Ali wondered what she was thinking, but decided not to give any warnings. He deserved whatever was coming from that quarter.

"Dorian, you stick to Dagna. Whatever she needs, you do it, on my authority. We can't lose track of Samson in all of this, so I'm counting on you to stay the course."

He nodded regally, meeting her head on. "You can be sure of me."

"Solas, same deal but with the Lady Morrigan. She's got more secrets than I could learn in a lifetime, but do try to find out what she meant with that temple business? I don’t know what you can offer her, but try to find something please.”

He arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps if I tell her I am the Dread Wolf incarnate, she will take me into her confidences."

The unexpected jest made everyone around the table break out in nervous laughter. _How sad is it that Solas is the one making me laugh right now_?

"Tell her whatever you think will help, Ser Wolf. Does anyone have any questions?"

The laughter faded as the whole group remembered why they were gathered. No one quite knew where to look, and it was a long moment before Sera tentatively raised her hand. "What are you gonna do when you get there?"

Ali inhaled a long breath and held it, trying to focus her thoughts. "I'm going to ask him for an explanation. And then one way or another, he's coming back to Skyhold." No one needed to ask for clarification, it was perfectly obvious that 'one way or another' really meant 'dead or alive'.

There had been an instant there where things almost felt okay, but that was gone. Once more, the room felt like it didn't have enough air, that the walls were closing in around her. Bile rose up in the back of her throat, and Ali felt the burn throughout her whole body. She couldn't stay in this room a second longer, couldn't look at _these people_ and their _faces_ and their _pity._

She slammed her fist down on the table once before turning to march out of the room. She heard someone open the door to her rooms - Cassandra probably, packing a fresh bag for her.

Just as she pushed into Josephine’s office, fingers closed around her elbow. Based on the way her skin prickled, Ali knew it was Cullen. She wrenched her arm away and stepped back as she turned to face him. "Were my instructions unclear Commander?"

Involuntarily, he took a step back at the bile in her voice. "No, Inquisitor. I just wished to know where you would like us to rendezvous in Val Royeaux?" He bobbed his head respectfully, but his face was totally blank, though whether through design or shock, Ali couldn't tell. _Not that it matters._

She tried to think ahead, beyond getting out of this room and away from this man. It was a reasonable question, there was no doubt about that, but it still seemed so grossly unfair that she had to deal with him at a time like this. Perhaps Cassandra would be better - but no, she was needed at Skyhold, and Cullen's reputation carried some weight that she could throw around Orlais if needed.

But then she was saved, saved from having to speak to him directly by a perfumed whirl of skirts that stepped neatly between the two of them. Vivienne, wearing her most dignified expression and acting as if nothing was at all out of the ordinary, addressing Ali as if this were just any other day.

"Why you simply must allow me to extend you the offer of my townhouse, my dear. It is on Rue de Soie, a most remarkable street. I will alert my staff to your arrival - you will of course, wish to bathe before going to the prison, non? Leave word for the Commander there - I have a most dependable footman who may be trusted with a message."

Ali blinked at Vivienne's face, noting as if through a fog the tiny line of tension between her brows. Somehow, that line was in brighter focus than anything else in the room and she seized the notion with a grasping desperation - nothing was fine, but it was possible to keep pretending, to keep moving forward. Holding the thought close, Ali managed to get out a perfectly ordinary sounding, "Thank you."

Sweeping around, Vivienne linked an arm through Cullen's and escorted him back towards the War Room while nattering on about her townhouse. Not wanting to miss her window, Ali ducked out into the Great Hall and headed for the exit.

*****

Dorian Pavus had seen a lot of really fucked-up shit in his lifetime. Blood magic, slavery, torture, sadism - all of that had been old hat to him by the time he hit puberty. But this scene - it was bad on any scale he could think of.

It wasn't okay that his lover had known about whatever relationship had been going on under their noses. Except that it sort of was, because how could anyone hope to let love blossom under the kind of scrutiny they put dear Alinora through? And really, he and Bull had had a perfectly lovely secret romance of their own, and the Black Divine only knew that Alinora and the delicious Commander were meant for each other.

It would have been nice if she’d told him about it, taken him into her confidences, but Dorian knew the kind of image he presented and he couldn’t fault her for choosing discretion.

The timing couldn't have been worse, of course. She looked like she'd gone through the Fade, _again_ , only this time the nightmare had followed her out with it. Dorian listened to her monotonous orders with only half an ear, the other half trying to evaluate what in Thedas could have transpired to make her flinch so whenever Cullen so much as blinked.

It wasn't okay, and she wasn't okay. Dorian had always thought of himself as an intrinsically selfish person, and maybe he was. But he’d always seen something of himself in Ali – something that many mages had, a need to protect their secret selves from the forces that sought to take from them.

Over the last year, he'd learned to open himself up just a little bit, just wide enough for an outrageous Qunari spy to wriggle his way in and set up camp. If that was what Cullen had done and then betrayed her...

The thought of it made his blood run hot. If Bull ever did that to him, there would be a bloody grease spot where he used to stand.

So when Ali darted out of the room, Dorian and Vivienne glanced at each other and followed immediately. The Iron Lady took care of Cullen - long years of wrangling men finally paying off. Dorian followed Ali out of the Keep and down to the courtyard, watching her panicked fidgeting as she waited for Cole to bring her mount around.

She was standing with her back pressed against the wall, and he was impressed that she looked anything like normal. To the people walking by, she just looked like a tired woman, fatigued from a long day on the road and gearing up to go back out into the world.

He slipped to her side and pulled her away from the wall, wrapping his arms around her as much as he could, trying to exude as much peace as he possibly could. Ali was stiff and unyielding in his arms, but she tipped forward into his shoulder. Up close, he could feel her shivering, a nervous vibration coming through her clothes.

Soothingly, he tightened his grip and tried to think of what he could possibly say. Dipping his head, he whispered in her ear. "You are brave, and bright, and the best woman I have ever met. Hold tight, lovely. We'll be here when you get back."

He leaned back away from her and brushed a hand across her forehead. "Would you like me to...?"

The thought of someone else kissing her forehead and wishing her luck seemed to be a bridge too far and she choked back a sob. Instead of accepting his offer, she leaned in and brushed her lips over his very quickly. Dorian was surprised by the kiss, but only for a second. From the sounds of it, kissing had been in short supply for her lately. He kissed her again more firmly, letting strength pour out and into her – a neat trick between mages, and all he could offer her right now.

The Bog Unicorn neighed from behind them and Ali was off, fleeing across the courtyard and snatching her bag from Cassandra. She pulled herself onto the horse in one smooth motion and jabbed her heels into its side, galloping out of the gates at a breakneck speed.

Dorian looked up to where Cassandra stood above him, her statuesque face even stonier than usual. She nodded towards Cullen's office. "I must start securing Skyhold. Perhaps later we should..."

"Yes." Dorian climbed back up the stairs, feeling a hundred years old. "Tonight, we shall begin cleaning this mess. I will bring wine."


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but there should be another one up soon. I'm so sorry that the updates are taking longer - I really am trying to get them out quickly!

They gathered slowly, wandering into the tavern as casual as you like, some stopping to chat with friends, some clearly using is as a convenient cut through to the battlements. But one by one, they all drifted upstairs as if this were just any other day and nothing was wrong.

In the abandoned room just outside of Cole’s balcony, someone had righted the benches and pushed away the worst of the debris. Dorian waited just inside the door to as they came in - wine all around, even for Solas. Cole didn't drink his, but he did start tracing patterns in the walls with the dark liquid.

Sera was the last to arrive - unlike the others, she used the door from the walls. Something was stuffed under her shirt and she was giggling madly, but no one asked any questions.

Everyone seemed to be on the brink of speaking, but no one could take the plunge. Finally, after too much of the pregnant silence, Cassandra spoke, looking up from the dagger she was cleaning. "I have everything in place to secure Skyhold. It will all be implemented the moment Cullen leaves tomorrow."

There was a general murmuring at the mention of their Commander, but silence fell again. Dorian was the next to speak, but it was only to offer more wine to the gathered crew. Finally Vivienne sniffed and tossed back her glass. “This is absurd. Who can shed any light on the abominable display today?”

Sera looked at the mage like she was crazy. “Umm… weren’t you paying attention? Fancypants arsehole was shagging Quiz, but then he busted her all up instead.”

“I don’t believe they actually had intercourse.” Solas added. “It sounded a bit more casual than that.”

“Really?” Varric asked. “It sounded pretty damn formal to me.”

Dorian huffed. “Why are we speculating? Why not ask the person who knew all along _and never told his husband?!?”_

All eyes shifted to the far corner, and Bull begrudgingly raised his head. His horns cast crazy shadows in the torchlight, and when he spoke, he sounded meek, almost defeated. “I found out after the Winter Palace. Right after Cullen was shot. He explained why it was a secret, and I respected that.”

When he didn’t keep speaking, Vivienne rolled her eyes and gestured. A bit of flame popped off of Bull’s boot, and he started talking again with alacrity. “I won’t tell you everything – it isn’t my place. But I know it wasn’t anything at first – just stress relief, really. I think over time though, it turned into something bigger, and they got swept up in everything. It was more frequent, for sure, and they weren’t as careful. Even when we were in camp…”

Sera gasped. “Next to us?!?”

Bull almost smiled, but not quite. “Not actually in the camp, no. But the night before we took the temple, after you went to sleep, he went down to where she was bathing. They were down there for awhile.”

Sera still looked horrified, but Cassandra and Dorian exchanged an intrigued glance, before looking away hurriedly. For his part, Varric look pensive, tapping his teeth with a quill. “Forbidden romance. That’s quite juicy.”

Bull rounded on the dwarf, anger puffing out his muscles into stark relief. “Still yourself! It isn’t juicy, or romantic, or any of your stupid fictional ideas.”

“It’s a little romantic.” Cassandra muttered out the side of her mouth to nobody in particular.

Now Bull was up, looming over Varric. “Why do you think they kept it a secret anyhow? They had lots of reasons to, but the biggest was because of your big mouth!”

"That's not fair!" Varric protested as he scrambled backwards.

"It is and you know it." Bull snapped back. "You’re the one who decided to bet on the sex life of the perfectly nice woman who’s saving the fucking world. You know she’s a real person right? She isn’t one of your little characters that you can move around the page, she’s an actual living breathing woman that we send into hell every day! Cullen couldn’t even kiss her, did you know that? Not after you opened the hole connected to your empty head and made her promise to tell you all about it. How could they-” 

“Enough!” Varric shouted. “I didn’t know!” Looking around the room with tear filled eyes, he begged for forgiveness. “I didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. I thought I was helping.”

Cole abandoned his drawings and spoke for the first time. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell. We have to be careful when we try to help.” 

“Were they in love?” Solas asked gently. “Did it go that far?”

“Yes. They didn’t know it really yet.” Cole said frankly. “But she knows when he holds her and he knows when she smiles. They always know when they sing.”

“Maker.” Cass muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “This is horrible.”

Sera was uninterested in particulars of emotions. “So what went wrong? What was all that about whores?”

Bull shook his head. “I don’t know. I knew he was going to break things off after what happened at the temple, but whatever he said to her must have been brutal.”

“Why break things off at all?” Dorian wondered out loud. “If they were in love, why would he do that to her? She was _shattered_.”

“I don’t know what he said, but I could guess.” Bull said slowly. “That part is on me, a little. When we were at the temple, things went badly. He couldn’t deal, and so he left. I think it made him realize what the cost to the Inquisition might be, and he had to put duty first. I told him he’d have to make her understand, and from the sounds of it, he went overboard. He was trying to protect her, I think.”

Cassandra and Sera made identical groans of disgust and Vivienne popped to her feet, infuriated. “Of all the self-righteous, patronizing nonsense! What gives him the right to make that decision for her?”

“She did.” Everyone turned to look at Solas as he leaned back pensively. “Alinora gave him that right when she made him Commander of her Armies and her best friend. She trusts him to keep her safe. If that is what he is doing now, we shouldn’t interfere. Love cannot preempt duty, much as we might wish it were so.”

Dorian started to interject, but Cassandra cut him off. “Solas is correct. And whatever has happened is past, and we cannot make it right just by wishing.”

“So what do we do?” Varric asked miserably.

“We help.” Cole answered. “Horses and reports and Jennies and Wardens.”

Cassandra nodded, stepping into the center of the room. “We do what she tasked us with. We will keep things running until they return from Val Royeaux, and once they do…” She furrowed her brow and forced the words out. “We will support them and give them space. We have caused enough trouble to the two of them. We will have faith in our Herald, and in Andraste, and we will be there when she needs us.”

There wasn’t really anything to say to that except a general sound of agreement. One by one they all slipped out the door. Bull tried to catch Dorian’s arm, but the magister slipped away before he could. Solas patted the bigger man’s hand as he walked by, but no words were exchanged. Vivienne slipped an arm through Cassandra’s, and surprisingly, one through Sera’s as well. Varric left last – slowly wiping his eyes and sending up a prayer for the first time in a long time.


	55. Chapter 55

Vivienne’s townhouse was a stately sort of place – all red brick and iron railings. When Ali rode into the courtyard a mere day after leaving Skyhold, she almost smiled at the sight of it.

But the smile didn’t come. It had been a long, harrowing ride. The Bog Unicorn was fast as lightning, but not exactly comfortable. The ride would have been excruciating under the best of circumstances, and Ali was far from her best. Even if she hadn’t been exhausted from her recent travels, the state of her heart would be enough to leave her struggling.

She’d tried not to think of Cullen on the ride, tried not to obsess over what he said and how his eyes had looked so empty when he crushed her. It was no use – as soon as she pushed those images away, others came to fill them. These were worse because they were _wonderful_. The way he laughed with her at the breakfast table, the way he looked amazed and honored whenever she touched him, the way his voice got warm and husky when he held her. She remembered the way he’d carried her after Haven, how he’d learned to dance for her, and the way he called her beautiful.

That was even worse than thinking of how he hated her, so a few hours into the ride, she gave up. Just gave up and gave in, and let herself sink down into the deep mire of hurt that bloomed within her. She knew there was a reason why he’d ripped up her heart, but everything was too fresh to examine. Instead, she let herself grieve for what was lost, and tried to focus on the next steps to deal with the other betrayal she’d suffered.

Blackwall and Josephine being in love was a bit of a shock, but not unexpected when she looked at the evidence. It was a shame really, under other circumstances she might have been happy for them. There was no room for that now – anger at Leliana was drowning out any merciful feelings she might have held for the pair. Love was one thing, but fraud of this level… well, she didn’t think it could stand. Ali knew there was every chance she’d have to execute the false Warden, so she imagined it again and again, trying to dull the horror of it.

She pictured the way she would hold the sword as he knelt in front of her, the way he would beg for mercy when the sun caught the blade. A long swish, and a heavy thump, and she could easily imagine how his head would roll and Josie would wail. Over and over she thought of it, until it almost felt like an old memory. When that was done, she thought of Cullen’s head rolling, but instead of any vengeful pride, that just made her stomach clench and her heart bleed.

So yes, when she rode up to Vivenne’s house, she had no smiles to give.

*****

The staff at the house was lovely and efficient. Within moments of her arrival, a bright young lad had taken her mount and whisked it away for a grooming and some lyrium snacks. He didn’t seem at all surprised by the appearance of the Bog Unicorn, and Ali considered that the home of a mage like Vivienne probably had stranger visitors that her all the time.

The head footman met her at the door and offered her bread and salt in the foyer. To her surprise, Ali recognized him as a Tranquil named Neville – he had lived in the storehouse in her Circle, and she remembered the toneless way he hummed when he was thinking. At first, she was revolted that Vivienne would use someone so, but then she remembered how the Tranquil were left to fend for themselves after the Circle fell, and felt badly for her judgement. The Iron Lady had found a place for him, and based on his appearance, was keeping him well fed and clothed in her own home.

The staff didn’t waste any time on pleasantries. As soon as Ali declined the use of a bed, they whisked her into a bathing chamber and stripped her down, bathing and grooming her with all due haste. A little girl came up from the kitchens and squealed when she saw the length of Ali’s hair, but darted forward and put together a very credible braid. Neville produced a dress from somewhere – dark blue with black crewelwork. Ali found a bit of amusement when she got it on – it was a more modest version of the one she’d worn to the Winter Palace, so it seemed the fashion really had caught on. That led to her remembering what Cullen had said about her dress, and her amusement faded as quickly as it had come.

Once she was dressed, Neville escorted her back to the door, tonelessly giving instruction on how to find the prison. He assured her that they would send a message to the palace to ask for an audience with the Empress that evening, but Ali wanted to get a measure of Blackwall before she petitioned Celene for any sort of favor.

Neville also pressed a vial into her hand, informing her that it was a stimulant of his own devising, and one Vivienne used during more involved spells. Ali knew it might be a lie – some sort of poison or trick – but she didn’t care at all. When she tossed the vial back, strength fizzed through her veins and the room suddenly looked brighter and harder. Rubbing her tongue over her teeth, she determined that it was coffee and lyrium mixed with viciously strong alcohol, with some sort of herbal undertone that she couldn’t identify. It didn’t make her feel rested, exactly, but she felt sharper than she had in days. Thanking Neville for his hospitality, she dashed out of the house less than an hour after she’d arrived.

*****

The jailer was absolutely a lecher, but he was also a greedy man. He didn’t even ask for Ali’s name when she arrived, just took the offered bribe and escorted her inside, letting his hand linger too long on her lower back. Ali thought about making an issue of it, but decided to let that lie until she’d secured Blackwall.

The jail was cleaner than she’d expected – the rushes were fresh, and the stink of human bodies wasn’t overpowering. Blackwall was in a holding cell of his very own, at the end of an abandoned hallway. Ali supposed that turning oneself in for murder perhaps warranted slightly better conditions than getting dragged in kicking and cursing, and she cynically wondered if that’s why he had done it this way.

The man himself was slumped in the corner of his cell, still wearing the clothing he normally did at Skyhold. There were bits of straw stuck in his beard, but he didn’t look ill-treated at all. That was good – no matter what he’d done, this man was still sworn to the Inquisition, and Ali would not have been able to overlook casual cruelty towards one of her people.

She stood in front of the bars for a long moment, before Blackwall looked up. He must have been expecting someone else, because his eyes widened with shock and he leapt to his feet, only to drop back down to his knees and press his forehead to the floor. “Inquisitor – what? Why are you here? How are you here?”

All at once, Ali’s composure slipped and tears rushed to her eyes. The man in the cell had fought beside her without hesitation since the very beginning, had never doubted her or sought to lead. She’d trusted him with her life, time and time again, and his shield had always been there to defend her.

But there was no room for sentimentality now. She dashed the tears away quickly, and willed her composure back into being. “Rise… serrah.” The pause left no doubt of her meaning – she didn’t know how to address him, and everything was not okay.

He scrambled to his feet, and she stepped back, seating herself on a bench on the far side of the hallway. She took a moment to rearrange her skirts, and when that was done, she was the Inquisitor, through and through. “It doesn’t matter how I am here, only that I am. Will you speak to me?”

Blackwall nodded, looking everywhere but at her. “You should know that I am Thom Rainier, my lady, not Gordon Blackwall.”

Ali laughed harshly. “That I know. I found your other letter. I know you are no Warden, and possibly a murderer.”

“Not possibly.” He breathed deeply and evenly. “I am a murderer. And a fraud. And a wretched excuse for a man.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Ali settled herself more comfortably on the bench. “Tell me then.”

So he did, the words pouring out of him like water. He told her of his childhood in the Marches, in Markham. He told her of his time in the Orlesian army, and how he had gained status in spite of his lowly birth. He told her of Ser Robert Chapuis, and how he’d given the order to slaughter Lord Vincent Callier. He told her of the attack, and how he’d killed the children too. He told her that Gaspard had disavowed them, and how he’d run. He told her of the real Gordon Blackwall, and how the man had sacrificed himself…

That was when his voice finally broke, and tears started to fall. He wept while he told her of the real Blackwall’s honor, how he’d given his life for a green recruit worth nothing to anyone. He kept crying as he explained why he’d assumed the man’s name, and how he’d tried to atone by wandering the wilderness and recruiting. He explained why he’d joined the Inquisition – that it seemed to be a cause worth dying for, how his guilt couldn’t allow him to do anything but to try to help.

He told her of Josephine, how their love had started small, and stayed small, never moving beyond kisses and the brushing of fingers, that he was never worthy of her, but couldn’t stop himself from loving her. He told her of the news that his man Mornay had been captured, and his surrender to the Orlesian authorities, how it had wrenched at his heart to ride away from his lady and Skyhold.

Throughout it all, Ali kept her face stony and her voice silent. She was surprised he was a Marcher, and she felt a little stupid for never noticing the faint trace of an accent that came about when he was drunk. It made her feel a little better that the deceit had been perpetuated long before they’d met – at least it seemed he wasn’t a spy for the enemy. The parts about Josephine were interesting, but she didn’t know how she felt about her diplomat right now, and she didn’t want to pry into their business too much.

When at last his words ran dry, Ali gazed at him levelly, and this time, he looked back at her. It was a very complete accounting, but there was only one point she needed to clarify. "Why did you do this?" She tipped her head back against the stone. "Why now?"

Blackwall, no _Thom_ , sank to the floor in front of the bars. "When I learned that had captured Mornay, I couldn’t just leave it. He was my man. I was responsible for what we did, and I will not let him die for my mistakes."

"Your man." Ali had to chuckle at that. "You would do this for your man, but you question why I am here. Does your hypocrisy know no bounds?"

A reluctant smile appeared under his beard. "I suppose it doesn't, my lady. I should have told you from the first, but by the time we knew we were facing a Darkspawn, it was too late. For what it’s worth, I didn't enjoy keeping secrets from you."

"Really? Not even the one where you got to canoodle with Josephine?"

"No." He looked so earnest that Ali had to believe him. "We were a secret because I am a fraud, but I could not reveal my name without losing her."

"Yes, I get it. You were trapped. I have plenty of sympathy for that." She picked at a particular fascinating bit of embroidery, unable to look up.

"My lady?"

Ali pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, looking across the room and through the bars at one of the men she'd have trusted with her life. "You might as well know, I guess. Cullen and I were..."

"Ah." Blackwall looked away, then turned back with a look of horror. "You said were. Is it because I-"

The evening had started to scar over, but the reminder brought a freshly sharp pain to her heart. "No. He'd already decided that we were done. Told me that, called me a whore and implied he never liked me anyhow. I was upset so I went to hide in the stables. That’s when I found your note."

Explaining it like that made her realized how truly ridiculous the timing was and a laugh escaped her lips. Blackwall stared at her like she'd grown a second head, but he was laughing with her a minute later.

"Well, my lady, if I had known, I'd have tried to plan this a little better. I’d at least have left a bottle of something along with my note."

"Oh Blackwall, its fine." Laughter abated, Ali felt a tiny bit better, like some tiny chink of herself had settled back into place. "I understand what you did, I really do, but… that doesn’t mean that what you did is acceptable. I just don't know what to do now. Somehow, I have to figure out how to fight an ancient darkspawn without a single Gray Warden by my side. It's like a bad joke without a punchline."

Blackwall didn't have anything to say to that, so after a long moment, Ali stood. Using her Inquisitor-voice, she said, "I have a need to see the Empress. I will return tomorrow, and we will discuss your future."

*****

Celene met her in a small antechamber in her personal quarters, beautifully decorated in gilt and velvet. Ali barely looked at the decorations, except to determine that there was nowhere in the room where an eavesdropper could hide. She cast out a few spells of awareness, ones they’d developed to find hidden enemies, but they seemed to be alone.

The Empress was less lavishly dressed than she’d been at the palace, but every inch of her still exuded wealth and power. Her mask was a tiny thing, just sheer starched cloth stretched over her forehead, signifying that this was a meeting between friends.

Ali barely had time to notice all those details and bow politely before the Empress was pulling her forward and pressing her down on a very plush settee. “Are you quite all right Alinora? You look exhausted, and our seneschal didn’t tell us the reason for this visit.”

Bewildered and thrown off her script, Ali pressed a hand to Celene’s. “I am exhausted, and I apologize for the vagueness of my message. I have things to discuss that can’t…” To her eternal humiliation, those words ended in a strangled sob. She waved it away frantically, and the Empress was kind enough to pretend she hadn’t noticed.

Instead, she leaned back and picked up a small glass of wine from the side table. Sipping slowly, she waved imperiously. “Tell us why you have come then. We will assist if we are able.”

Ali was overwhelmed with gratitude, and decided that she wanted to be as gracious as the Empress when she grew up. In a few short sentences, she outlined exactly what had happened with Blackwall, leaving out everything to do with hidden love affairs or broken hearts. When she finished, she collapsed backwards into her own seat.

“So you see, your Imperial Highness, I come to you to beg for your council. This man is a traitor to your lands, but he is sworn to my cause. I thought perhaps we could discuss how to proceed in private, before the politicians come out to play.”

A very faint smile graced the Empress’s lips. “We do enjoy your wit, Alinora. And we are grateful that you came to us with this. We had heard of this man’s capture, and it is causing some ripples in our Court. What are you hoping his fate will be?”

The direct question threw Ali off again. She’d honestly expected that the Empress would already have a plan in place, and she would have to convince her to change it. “I- um, that is, the Inquisition should be the ones to judge him. He swore oaths to me that I don’t want to set aside. Would that be possible?”

Celene didn’t look up from her glass. “What would your judgement be?”

Ali sighed. “I don’t know. I probably won’t have him torn apart by rabid dogs, and I’m not going to make him King of Thedas. Beyond that, I haven’t decided.” Voice cracking, she admitted a tiny sliver of the truth. “I’m not… at my best at the moment. I’d prefer to leave life and death until after I’ve had a bit of a nap.”

This time, Celene did smile for real, and she reached up to pull off her mask. “Very wise of you, my dear. I find that a nap often improves things enormously. It is possible for you to take the man, but not easy. The end of the Civil War came with a price, and I am not as popular as I once was. Giving away a criminal, even one as out of fashion as Rainier…”

She trailed off meaningfully, and Ali blessed the foresight that had led her to give certain orders. “I may have an answer for that Empress. When I was in Emprise du Lion, we arrested a woman named Poulin. She was in league with the Red Templars, and she sold her own people as chattel to be murdered. I had planned to judge her for crimes against the Inquisition, but instead, my Commander is bringing her here to your custody.”

Celene’s face brightened at the news. “Cullen is coming? I look forward to seeing his delightful face again. Will he be resuming his farce of love again?”

For an instant, Ali’s blood froze before she remembered their theatrics at the Winter Palace. Of course Celene had no idea what had transpired between them, and she had no plans to illuminate her. Keeping her voice even, Ali tried not to promise anything. “I suppose he will, if necessary. We haven’t spoken of it, being more preoccupied with the situation with our man.”

Nodding, the Empress set aside her glass and interlaced her hands, leaning forward seriously. “If the crimes of this Poulin woman are true, it will be a very popular trip to the hangman’s noose. Such a spectacle will more than cover any loss of face from releasing Rainier. And if I can borrow your Commander for a night or two, I will be able to get my nobles clamoring for further relations with your military. But you must decide what you are going to do with this man.”

Ali sat utterly still, feeling pulled in too many directions to count. It was gratifying to know her instincts in the War Room had been dead on – that bringing the prisoner and Cullen would only work towards her favor. But she had no instincts as far as Blackwall was concerned – she understood why he’d taken the path he had, and in his place, she might have done the same thing. But fraud of this level had to be answered with death – didn’t it?

Celene must have recognized the strain on her face, because she reached forward and very gently took Ali’s hands, warming them between her own. “Inquisitor, I owe my throne to you, and you have asked me for nothing but friendship. Whatever you decide to do in this instance, I am behind you.”

Ali nodded, trying to find pretty words of thanks for the confidence, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. One of the Empress’s guards entered, eyes downcast so as not to look directly at them. He placed a note on the table and left as silently as he’d entered, leaving Ali very impressed with the level of respect Celene garnered from her own people.

The Empress read the note quickly before rising to her feet. “There has been an attack on the prison. Agents of the Venatori attempted to capture your man for themselves.”

Anger and fear welled in Ali’s throat. “Is he okay?”

“Yes. The guards subdued them without incident, leaving no surviving attackers.”

Some of the fear receded, but the anger remained. “I must go, your Imperial Majesty. Unless you object, I will stay with Rainier until my people arrive, to guard him from harm.”

Celene’s only response was to reposition the mask on her pretty face. “We have no objection. Thom Rainier is formally released into the custody of the Inquisition.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't quite how it plays out in the game, but I always thought it was a little unsatisfying how you get Blackwall back. 
> 
> There's a little more plot to get through before we really get back to Cullen and Ali and their drama, so please just bear with me.


	56. Chapter 56

Staying in the jail wasn’t as bad as Ali had feared. There were no more attacks from Venatori, but there were several suspicious characters who wandered through and ran as soon as they saw her. The jailer was a pest for the first day, but Ali finally snapped when he ‘accidently’ tripped her and ‘inadvertently’ grabbed her breasts as he caught her. One broken wrist later, and the man was swept away by Celene’s soldiers for a chat with the head of the City Guard.

The new jailer was grateful for the promotion, and did what he could to make the surroundings more comfortable for Ali and Blackwall. They got regular meals, and plenty of candles to light the cells. The cot was a little lumpy, but Ali was so tired that it didn’t matter – she managed several short naps, sleeping lightly in case of another attack. While she never managed to feel much better, she at least managed to arrest the exhaustion that had been growing over the last days. Celene sent regular messages – bits of encouragement accompanying more intelligence on the background of Blackwall’s crime. Most of it was horrifying, but there were a few promising nuggets buried within. Ali still didn’t know what his fate would be, but at least she had some options.

It was nice to spend the time with Blackwall. He’d always been taciturn, but Ali discovered that was more due to habit than personality. They didn’t discuss anything serious like Cullen’s betrayal or the upcoming judgment. Instead, they swapped old tales from their childhoods, discovering a lot of common ground. It turned out that Blackwall had known Ali’s father years ago, and remembered when her older brother Robis was born. Ali talked about the Grand Tourney she’d seen, and they compared notes on Orlesian chevaliers they’d seen.

Ali never stopped thinking about what waited for her outside of the jail, but refused to indulge in grief or sentiment. There would be a time for that later, but for now, all she wanted to do was enjoy the company of the friend she might have to kill. It was a sadly ironic thing, but the time in jail almost felt like a vacation.

*****

On the third day, the jailer came down to tell Ali that a man had arrived and was asking for her. She knew who it had to be, and her already heavy heart sunk even lower. Blackwall was about to win the hand of cards they were playing, so she decided to let Cullen stew for a little while.

But there was only so long she could delay, so eventually she stood and dusted herself off. “Well, this is it. Thank you for the pleasant company, serrah.”

Blackwall smiled at her through the bars. “Polite till the last, my lady. I will see you at Skyhold then?”

Ali didn’t know how to respond to that so she just nodded, and gave the type of bow appropriate to a minor Orlesian chevalier. It seemed the least she could do for this man, since there was still a chance she’d have to lop off his head the next time she saw him.

As she trudged up the stairs, she tried to steel herself to see Cullen again. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought of him at all – in fact, her mind had been running a constant loop of _he hurt you, he hates you, he hurt you_. The ache had settled a little though, and it was starting to feel like the pain from an old wound, not a fresh one.

But sure enough, seeing him brought the hurt home again, made it balloon up inside of her like it had just happened. He was sitting at a small table, scratching out some sort of note. All she could see of him was the top of his head and the curve of his arm, and that was enough to reduce her heart to a tiny pile of dust.

“Commander.” Ali kept her voice ringing with authority as she stepped into the room. “How fare you?”

Cullen looked up reluctantly and set down his quill. His jaw was tight, and his face was empty of all emotion. “All’s well, Inquisitor. We have the package you ordered, and are awaiting your next.”

Whatever words Ali was about to say were forgotten when she caught sight of his face. The entire left side was swollen and puffy, all purples and yellows. The bruise was impressive, and not entirely unexpected. “Cassandra?”

“Uh, no.” Cullen reached up instinctively and pressed his gloved fingers over the blackest part. “Dorian actually. Caught me on the way out of the War Room. Solas gave me a potion, but it was a fake. Cassandra…”

Ali was darkly pleased that her boys had defended her, but wondered what her girls might have done. “Cassandra did what?”

“Well, she stabbed me.” Cullen admitted ruefully, then rushed to clarify when blood rose in Ali’s cheeks. “Just a little. Just a warning on my shoulder, to make it clear that I…”

“That you what?!?” Ali was boggling at the thought of Cassandra stabbing him, even as it gave her a little thrill.

“That I’m a worthless shell of a man of low character.” He imitated the Seeker’s inflection almost perfectly, then shrugged. “Please don’t worry yourself about it, Inquisitor.”

“Did anyone else do anything?” Ali couldn’t help asking, but hearing how her friends had stepped to her defense was making her feel almost warm and made it a little easier to be in the same room as him.

Cullen stared at her for a long minute before pushing himself to his feet. Ali’s eyes dropped automatically, and for a second, she thought she was hallucinating. He was wearing his usual get-up of furred coat and armor, but underneath that…

Commander Cullen Rutherford was wearing _plaidweave_.

It was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen, but also the sweetest gift she’d ever been given. Cullen’s vanity was a well-known joke, just as the bolts of unused fabric were a frequent topic of jests around Skyhold. Plaidweave was simply the foulest looking fabric they ever ran across, and no one was willing to make use of it. Tricking Cullen into wearing pants made of it could only be the work of one person – someone tricksy enough to figure that it would knock him down a peg while giving her space to laugh at him.

“Oh Sera!” Ali cried through the giggles that had suddenly taken her. “Oh that’s brilliant! It’s perfect!”

Cullen scowled and sat down again. “I don’t know how she did it, but she got my trousers off while I was sleeping, and replaced them with these. I didn’t have time to find anything else before we rode out, so I’ve been wearing them for the last three days. It’s terrible.”

Amusement vanished as quickly as it had come when Ali remembered exactly why Sera had punished him so. Her voice was clipped and business like as she tried to steer the conversation back to business. “Because I have manners, I won’t say you deserved it. But you will need to find something else in the market today. You are dining at the Palace tonight with a selection of the Empress’s top military advisors.”

His eyebrows rose. “I am? Why?”

Ali huffed and reached for the cloak she’d left hanging at the door. Although it had been nice to see him beaten, it was getting harder and harder to be in the same room as him without screaming. “The Empress has agreed to release Blackwall into my custody in exchange for Mistress Poulin. But it didn’t come free, and one of the conditions is that she gets to dangle you in front of her people as her honored guest. So put on something pretty, and whatever happens, just lie back and think of the Inquisition. Most of these people were at the Winter Palace, so do try to remember that as far as Orlais is concerned, you’re horribly in love with me.”

She’d said that last sentence while facing the wall, forcing the words out past gritted teeth. Whatever his reaction was, she missed it. Once her cloak was in place, she turned back. “If you leave tomorrow, how long will it take you to get back?”

Cullen considered, his face perfectly calm. “Four days? Maybe five, depending on the winds.”

“Very well.” Ali nodded, trying to make plans for the next step. “Blackwall is a suspected criminal, not convicted. I want no ill-treatment on the road but do not allow him to escape. I want him there for his judgement.” That was about all she could take, so she nodded formally and headed for the exit.

"Are you going home?" The words fell out of his mouth like he hadn't quite meant to release them, but Ali didn't pause in her escape towards the door. At last though, she didn’t try to hide the hurt and pain in her voice.

"No Commander. I'm going back to Skyhold."

  
*****

The trip back was much the same as the trip to. Ali tried to keep her thoughts blank, trying to match her seat to the Bog Unicorn’s thunderous pace. Just as before, she cut up the Waking Sea to the ford – miles out of the way, but faster on this mount than a direct ship would have been. Neville had given her several more vials of the stimulant, and she drank them liberally, unmindful of any toll it might be taking on her body.

When at last Skyhold came into view, Ali reflected that this might just be her new normal. She might never again feel truly warm, and her skin might always feel like a too small covering over insides made hollow. She hoped not, but was willing to accept that this might be where her life had always been leading her. That was fine, she decided. She was very good at pretending.

It was very early in the morning when she rode up, and most of Skyhold wasn’t awake yet. The stables were just as she’d left them, with one small exception. As she slid off the Bog Unicorn, there was a rustling in the straw behind her, and a small and compact man emerged. Varric's nose was red, and so were his eyes. Ali didn't think she'd ever seen such a miserable looking creature in her entire life. He shuffled towards her, eyes downcast and stopped a few feet away.

"Junebug, I-" Overcome, he snapped his mouth shut and stared up at her, beseechingly. Dropping to his knees, he unstrapped Bianca and laid it on the ground in front of him. "Please take her."

Ali looked down at the penitent dwarf, at the crossbow lying in the muck of the stable and she shook her head in awe at the ridiculousness of her homecoming. "I'm so very honored that I got to be here on this day, the day that melodrama reached its peak. All melodrama will hereafter be but a pale shadow of this moment."

Varric looked up, blinking at her tone. "But I made that bet. Don't you hate me?"

Did she? It was a question she hadn’t really considered over the last few days. She hated Corypheus and Samson, and she thought she hated Leliana. The rest of them though…

"No." She bent to pick up Bianca and dug out a handkerchief to wipe her down.  "I hate that bet and I always did, but I could have told you that, asked you to call it off. Hell, I’m one of the richest woman in Thedas, so I could have bought the bets out from under you. I didn’t. That fault lies with me, and I will not pass the blame. We clear?"

He accepted Bianca back with an amazed look on his face. "You are quite a good person, did you know that?"

"Thanks." Ali said dryly. "Let’s keep that in mind if I end up cutting Blackwall's head off. What news from the Wardens?"

"Nothing good. Bethany wasn't around during the Blight, and no one ever said anything. And Blondie... well, he's not so much coherent these days. Vengeance is taking up all of his energy."

Ali paused from where she was unsaddling her horse. "I don't like the sound of that. Put it on my list - maybe there's a way to stabilize him with the amulet we got for Cole."

Varric looked surprised and pleased at the thought. "Really? You'd help him?"

This wasn't the time to get into it, so Ali just shrugged. "Maybe. After this is done, I'll find out more. But now, I need you to do me a favor."

The look in his eyes made her realize that obnoxious nug-humper or not, Varric was loyal to her through and through. "Anything, Junebug."

"Get my former advisors and tell them to come to the kitchens. Once I eat something, I'm heading out to Denerim."

*****

Fifteen minutes and two meat pies later, Ali was feeling almost like a human woman again. The kitchen fire was warm at her back, and the food was almost starting to fill up the empty space where she used to keep her insides.

When the door opened and Leliana and Josephine slipped in, the hollow feeling came back with a vengeance. They didn’t look very good – both of them frazzled and dark-eyed. Ali leaned back against the countertop and gave them a long hard look. Leliana stared back and met her gaze for gaze, but Josie kept her eyes downcast with her hands folded demurely.

“The prisoner is on his way to Skyhold in the care of Commander Cullen and his soldiers.” Ali didn’t want to waste any time on pleasantries. She still wasn’t sure how to resolve this situation, but seeing these women wasn’t making her feel any more charitable. “They will be arriving within the week, and the Commander has orders to keep Rainier in custody until I return.”

“Return? Are you leaving again?” Leliana didn’t even try to hide her anger.

Ali cocked an eyebrow, refusing to give her the satisfaction of any sort of impassioned response. “I am. I will be traveling to Denerim to sit council with the King. I find myself in need of some reasoned discourse. While I am away, the prisoner may have as much freedom of Skyhold as you see fit to give him.”

This was a trap of course, but these ladies were no fools. Josephine lifted her head and looked at Ali for the first time. “Really? What are the terms?”

Smiling in satisfaction, Ali explained. “I will judge him when I return. If you allow him his freedom entirely, or he does a runner, I will hold you accountable, Lady Montilyet, and the sentence will not be kind. If you should flee with him, I will hold your sister accountable, and so on and so forth, until I achieve what the House of Repose could not. Bear that in mind when you set his parole terms.”

Josie gaped at her, and Leliana looked murderous. “How dare you threaten her?!?”

“Shut up you ginger twit!” Ali finally lost her temper. “These are the ramifications of your actions! If you wanted mercy, you should have given me the information as soon as you had it. This situation is of your own making, no one elses.”

Leliana shrank back at the condemnation, but she still stayed in front of Josephine, protecting her to the last. “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

Ali shrugged and kicked backwards, popping the kitchen door open. “I wonder if you’ll ever know?”

 


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I should probably say something about all the kerfuffle that's been going on in the comments.
> 
> I know that this story did a hard turn a few chapters back, and some people are really angry about that. I get it, I really do. But I do have a plan, and there is a reason why all this is happening. I know why all the characters behaved like they did, and I'll try to make it really clear going forward. 
> 
> Some of this is in this new chapter, but there are a few things to remember. A) Everything since it all went to shit has happened over a period of about two weeks. B) Ali hasn't had a full night of sleep, or a proper meal since she left Skyhold for Val Royeaux, and she wasn't in great shape before that. C) All of them - Ali, the advisors, the companions - they're all dealing with their own stuff, and trying their best. Everyone has bad days, and not everyone handles it well. There's a reason that I haven't shown Cullen's POV in a while, and you won't see it for a few more chapters. 
> 
> That all being said, please keep sending me whatever constructive criticism you have. If you think this story is shit, go read something else. There's a lot of great fanfic out there, and I think we all have better things to do than calling each other names.

Ali felt a sick kind of satisfaction as she walked back to the stables. It wasn’t that Leliana and Josephine didn’t deserve to sweat a little, but threatening them made her feel a pretty low. She tried to work it through, but it all got tangled up in her head and she decided to table it for now. Denerim - she reminded herself - Denerim and the King and the Wardens.

She was so lost in thought that she barely noticed the slim figure standing next to the Bog Unicorn, carefully holding out the lyrium soaked hay that the creature subsisted on. Ali blinked in shock - no one in Skyhold ever approached the Fade-touched beast without prodding.

“I can’t believe you aren’t freaked out by him.” Ali said, pulling Krem’s attention towards her.

Krem shrugged minutely and stepped away from the Unicorn. “Tevinter, ma’am. You see a lot of strange things there.”

“Right.” Ali tossed her saddlebags over the hook and reached for the saddle. “Something I can help you with?”

Another shrug, this one a little larger. “I heard you rode in, and wanted to make sure you were okay. No one knows what’s going on right now, but I’ve known the Chief long enough to read between the lines. The big man has big guilt right now, and it’s centered on you. Thought I’d check in.”

That was news. As far as Ali knew Bull didn’t do anything wronger than anyone else in the last week or so. The thought of dealing with yet _another_ problem made her teeth ache, so she just waved away Krem’s concern. “I’ll talk to him when I get back. In the meantime, tell him the boss says ‘Horns up dumbass.’”

Krem gave a lazy salute and sauntered away. A thought crossed Ali’s mind and she asked it immediately without stopping to parse her motives. “Hey Cremisius? Did Cass really stab Cullen?”

Shielding his face from the early morning sun, he stopped just outside the stable and turned with a grin. “Did he say that? It’s a very dramatic interpretation of what happened. It was more of a nudge at knifepoint – didn’t even break his skin.”

Ali shook her head ruefully, wondering why Cullen had exaggerated so much. For the first time in the last few days, it occurred to her that he probably had feelings about what had happened too. The thought made her face twist up – she wasn’t sure how she felt about knowing that – so she pushed it aside into the place where all her unwanted thoughts were roiling.

*****

Later in the day, outside of Denerim, Ali pulled her mount up and hobbled him on the side of the road. There was no chance a thief would be interested in a horse with a sword through its head, but he would attract too much attention in the city and she was hoping that no one would recognize her. She had gloves to cover the anchor, and kept her cloak pulled up over her head as she walked back to the road and into the city.

The Royal Palace was on the other side of the river. As Ali walked through the market, she enjoyed the anonymity and privacy she found in the great crowds of strangers. No one rushed up to her to ask for orders, and there were no requisitions to fulfill. She smiled at the children tripping along after their parents, and bit her lip at the sweethearts strolling hand in hand.There were merchant stalls everywhere, selling a wider variety of goods than they ever saw in Skyhold, but Ali didn’t stop to browse. But then she passed a book merchant, and a familiar title caught her eye.

**_Breath of a Dragon_ **

**_Being the fourth chapter of_ **

**_The Great Adventures of the Harlot of Andraste_ **

It was Varric’s newest serial, the one she’d gotten him to take over after Isabela’s disastrous debut. Ali had read the first few chapters, but this one was new. It must have just come out – with the way things had been going, it was no wonder she hadn’t seen it.

Varric had done a nice job of fictionalizing the real story past the point of recognition. In this version, the Inquisition was led by a warrior named Catarina – a stunning blonde vixen with the sharpest sword and tongue in Thedas. Her romantic foil was Talbot, the darkly handsome ex-Templar with a mysterious past, and a gruff demeanor hiding his hidden passions. It wasn’t the most original of plots, but thus far, the dwarf had handled it with solid characterization and some decent jokes.

Impulsively, Ali veered over to the stall and handed over two pennies for a copy. The shopkeeper gave it to her with a smile, saying, “Just came out yesterday, my dear. Good addition to the series, for all that it isn’t the truth.”

“Really?” She was surprised by the man’s candor since most sellers would have claimed all their books to be true. “What’s wrong in it?”

He tugged on his beard and winked, enjoying the knowledge he had. “Well, I’ve never been there myself, but my sister’s boy went up to that fortress of hers a few moons past. The Inquisitor herself spoke to him – bought a silver’s worth of salt and all the toffee savories he had. He said she was as kind and gracious as a lady ought to be and asked him about his family. When he said he was to be married in the spring, she made him an extra silver as a bridegift.”

Ali huffed. She remembered that merchant and remembered the day. The man’s eyes had lit up when he talked about his wife, and she’d wanted to honor his devotion somehow. So she did it with money, the way she always did. “So she’s rich. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Naw, missus. She talked to him like he was people. How many nobles you ever met as looks at the likes of us and sees people? That Inquisitor’s an all right sort – people say she closed the hole in the sky with a prayer to Andraste herself. That fortress she’s got is a scary place, sure enough. But when you get there, you’re safe. King Alistair, Maker bless his name, is a good man, but that Inquisitor is a great lady, mark my words.”

Since the incident in the War Room, she’d been wracked with regret and doubt – was she enough? Could she prove worthy? The merchant’s words cut right through Ali’s haze of pain, and filled her up just a little bit more. Here, on this random street in this random city, a man she’d never met was telling her that she was doing a good job, that her works were appreciated.

Ali smiled at him, the first real smile she’d managed since Cullen had left her in camp. The man smiled back instinctively, and Ali passed him a whole sovereign. “For your family then, serrah. In honor of the Inquisition.”

She walked away to his profuse thanks, realizing after a few steps that she hadn’t actually picked up the serial she’d purchased. Loathe to waste a good exit, she decided just to wait and read it when she got home.

*****

Not surprisingly, strange women couldn’t just walk in off the street and ask to speak to the King. Ali knew there were protocols in place for such things, but she didn’t want word to spread that the Inquisitor herself had been spotted in Denerim.

Instead, she presented herself to the most senior ranking guardsman, and murmured that she had a message from the Nightingale. Another sovereign helped speed him on his way, and a moment later, Bann Teagan came out to the gates.

He recognized her immediately from their meeting in Redcliffe, but he didn’t give away the game. After leading her inside to a small study, he waited with her, making awkward small talk.

Just as they were exhausting their supplies of tidbits about the weather, the door burst open and King Alistair stumbled in, his eyes a little wild. “Uncle, what is it? Is it about the Queen?”

Ali pushed back her hood and gave the appropriate bow. “It is not, Your Majesty. But I have matters of importance I must speak to you about, with all possible haste.”

Alistair blinked away his shock and dismissed Teagan, firmly closing the door after him. Ali took the time to take stock of the man she’d only met briefly in Redcliffe, and not under the best of circumstances. He was dressed casually, with his hair tousled back. Like before, she was struck by how handsome he was, but now there was a pang attached to it. Well-muscled blond ex-Templars were a bit of a sore spot, after all.

The King gestured to a chair and waited until she’d sat down before he seated himself at behind the desk. “Well-met, Inquisitor Trevelyan. I must confess, I’m not sure of how I should address you. Is that appropriate?”

Ali blinked a few times. Was he really worried about protocol? Reminding herself that they’d only ever corresponded through Josephine, she shook her head. “Please, call me Ali.”

He snorted. “I am definitely not calling you that. My wife calls me Ali, and it will just confuse me.”

That made her smile – the second in the day! “Quiz then, your majesty? Some of my people call me that.”

“Very well Quiz. But you must call me Alistair. After all, I’m not _your_ king. What can I do for you?”

Ice firmly broken, she leaned back and folded her hands demurely. “I have a mess, and I need your help… Alistair.”

He gestured for her to continue, so she did. With broad strokes, she laid out the last few weeks, starting with the discovery of Blackwall’s fraud, then onto Val Royeaux, then the ride onto Denerim. “So you see, I have two problems – one is of what to do with this man, and the other is that I don’t know how to fight an Archdemon. I thought you might be able to help with both.”

The King stared at her, agog. “You’re telling me that in the last two weeks, you’ve been from Skyhold to Val Royeaux to here? Did you fly?”

“No.” Ali found herself fighting a giggle. “I rode a dead horse with a sword through its head. We think it has a spirit of diligence trapped inside, but whatever it is, its _damned_ fast.”

That didn’t put him any more at ease. “You know it took us three weeks to walk from Lake Calenhad to Orzammar. That hardly seems fair now. But really – no wonder you look exhausted, if you’ll forgive me for saying so. I hope you had a rather long rest before this all started.”

The giggle came back again, and this time, Ali let it out. “No, before that I was in Emprise du Lion fighting Red Templars and liberating a keep from a primeval Desire Demon. Then I was home for three days before I had to fight my Commander in front of everybody in a bout where I broke four ribs and had my face sliced open. Then we went to a Temple in northern Orlais to find Corypheus’s lieutenant and I had to drink red lyrium to save Cullen’s life and I got home just in time to have him thank me by calling me a whore and breaking my heart. But then I had a whole ten minutes to rest before I found Blackwall’s letter about the Wardens and had to leave for Val Royeaux.” Ali realized what she’d said a moment too late. Whoops.

“Cullen said what?” Alistair’s face had sobered immeasurably, and he rose slowly to his feet. “ _Cullen Rutherford_ broke your heart?” He crossed to the sideboard and selected a skin of wine, not even bothering with glasses.

Ali blushed when he sat back down on the chair next to hers, but took the wine gratefully. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t really the point. The point of all that was that I’ve had a bitch of a time the last two months, and I’m not exactly at my best. So if you could just help me with the pair of problems I have, I’ll be out of your hair and back on my dead horse.”

“Three problems.” The King corrected her. “You have three problems. Blackwall, Darkspawn and Cullen. And we’re going to talk about them all.” Catching her distrustful look, he scratched at the back of his head and looked away. “Look, my wife has been gone for almost three years and I spend my life dealing with court gossips and threats of rebellion. You need a friend right now, and I think I can help.”

Ali shrugged, focusing on sipping the wine instead of chugging it. “Very well. Where do you suggest we begin?”

Alistair looked around the tiny well-appointed study. “Not here. Come on Quiz. Let me show you the Blight.”

*****

“Your man Blackwall is easy, as far as Ferelden is concerned. His crimes weren’t committed against us, and I have no interest in bringing charges for the time he spent wandering our borders as a wanted fugitive. Whatever you decide will be fine with me.” Alistair was sitting across from her in the carriage he’d summoned, taking her to Maker-knows-where.

Ali brushed her hand against the pillow she clutched to her chest. “That’s what Celene said too. I just don’t know what to do. I think I have to kill him, but I really don’t think I want to.”

“Then don’t.” Alistair caught her eye. “I think you’re missing something in all this. You are the Inquisitor, the leader of the greatest independent military force that Thedas has seen in centuries. In the last two weeks, you’ve gained audiences with the Empress of Orlais and the King of Ferelden, and we have both pledged to support your decision. Do you think it would be different if you went to Nevarra or Antiva? It’s your house, Inquisitor. You can keep it as you see fit.”

The words had a ring of truth to them, and Ali couldn’t find a rebuttal. He was right – she could do what she wanted as long as it didn’t act against their interests. The biggest problem was that she thought she _had_ to execute Blackwall – how could fraud like his not be responded to with a death sentence? That thought triggered something else, just the seed of an idea that Ali tucked away to think about later.

Alistair waited for her attention to come back to him before he started speaking again. “As for the Darkspawn issue, you should know that there are some things I can’t tell you – no matter who you are, if you aren’t a Warden you don’t get to know them. But I’ll tell you what I can, and hope it will be enough.”

The carriage shuddered to a stop and he gestured to the door. “We’ve arrived. After you my lady.”

Exiting the carriage, Ali found herself in front of an immense fort. She knew at once what it had to be and turned, excited. “Fort Drakon? You brought me to Fort Drakon?”

Alistair smiled at her enthusiasm. “You’ve heard of it then?”

“Of course!” For a second, Ali forgot about her real life and was a decade in the past, huddled over a table with her Circle friends, greedily reading the reports coming out of Ferelden about the Blight. “This is where the final battle was fought against the Archdemon! Warden Riordan fell from the sky and you and the Hero pursued the dragon to the highest heights! The accounts get muddled from there, but you killed it and ended the Blight!”

Extending his arm politely, he nodded towards the doors. “Well, if you’d like Quiz, I’ll show you what really happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was clocking in at around 6000+ words, so I lopped it in half. There's a whole lot of info-dumping coming up, and I'm trying to streamline the back-half as much as possible. 
> 
> So yeah, the second part should go up today or tomorrow and is a direct continuation of their conversation.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just one giant conversation.

Ford Drakon was still functional and still full of soldiers. They all bowed respectfully to the King as he walked through, but Ali felt many curious eyes on her back as they passed. “I think Cullen isn’t the only one who thinks I’m a whore, Your Majesty,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?” Alistair looked around, noticing their looks. “Oh bother. Your wife leaves for a few years, and everyone thinks you’ll get a piece on the side. Let me deal with this.”

The next time they passed someone of any significant rank, Alistair made an introduction. “Lieutenant, I’d like to present my guest - Lady Morrigan, an old friend from the Hinterlands. She is here to inspect the workings of our fort, in hopes of improving Skyhold. Please extend her every courtesy during her visit.”

As soon as they stepped away, Ali hissed at him. “Morrigan? You told them I was Morrigan?

He winked at her. “Why not? You’re both dark, and it’s not like anyone ever looks at the swamp witch’s face. No doubt the biggest scandal will be that she appeared in public wearing a full shirt.”

“Hmph.” He did have a point, as loathe as she was to admit it, and she appreciated that he hadn’t announced her presence to the world at large. It was strange though, that he was so comfortable claiming friendship with the sorceress who most people took great pains to avoid. True, they’d been through the blight together, but Morrigan had never indicated that they were at all close.

Eventually they made it up to the roof of the fort, a great wide expanse with ballistas at the far ends. The sight of it took her breath away for a moment, and she stepped out towards the center dumbfounded. Somehow, it looked both too big and too small to have been the field for one of Thedas’s great battles. Perhaps the Gallows in Kirkwall would have the same effect, she mused.

“So the Archdemon landed in the middle at first.” Alistair began speaking behind her, his voice a little wooden. “We had our armies by that point, and Bhelen’s dwarven soldiers were the first ones up here.”

Step-by-step, he took her through it, leading her around the courtyard and pointing out places where the stone still showed the marks of battle, over a decade later. He described the waves of combat, how the battle ebbed and flowed around them. Finally, he took her up to one of the ballistas, and showed how it was still calibrated to shoot at the place where the injured dragon had lain.

“Can I shoot it?” Ali had been almost silent through his story, only clarifying a few points. But now she couldn’t resist asking – it was highly improper, she knew, but she just couldn’t resist.

Alistair rolled his eyes but bent to the trebuchet, winding it back. “You warrior women. Always looking to play with the biggest toys. My wife will love you.”

Recognizing the tease as a harmless jest, Ali just pushed him out of the way and finished cranking. She let the bolt go with a _whoop_ and watched in satisfaction as it careened across the expanse and smashed into the wall at the far end. It felt good to cause some mayhem – perhaps she should have broken something a few days ago.

Alistair was chuckling at the look on her face, so she shoved him again for good measure. She liked the king, she decided. He reminded her of Bragi a little bit – the same kind of mischievous energy permeated them both, and she resolved to find a way for her brother to meet Alistair someday. But that was for later, and as fun as the ballista was, it was time to get down to business. “So how did you kill the Archdemon?”

The King turned away and walked to the wall, looking out over the expanse of the city. “That’s one of the things I can’t tell you. It’s one of the biggest secrets that the Wardens have. They don’t even tell you at the Joining, only when a Blight starts.”

 _That_ was interesting. _What could possibly be so dangerous about that information_.

“I can tell you that I don’t think it matters right now.” Alistair stepped to the side to make space for her at the wall. “From what I can tell, you’re not dealing with a true Archdemon.”

“I’m not? How do you know? It looked true enough to me at Adamant.”

“Hmm.” His brow furrowed as he thought things through. “It’s like this. Around the time of the explosion, every Warden in Thedas started to hear the Calling, even me. The Queen was gone by that point, but one of her letters mentioned that it was just as terrible for her. I was worried about another Blight then, and I got in touch with Stroud, as you know.”

Ali nodded, the thought of Stroud still an open wound, even all these months later.

“After you fought at Adamant, the Calling faded away and I knew it to be false. If your man Corypheus had a true Archdemon, I would have heard it when the Calling faded.”

Now it was Ali’s turn to furrow her brow. “I don’t understand. Why would you hear an Archdemon?”

“I-” Alistair’s mouth thinned as he considered. “I can’t tell you that either.”

Ali huffed. “So a Blight is caused by an enormous darkdragonspawn, but not this particular time? Because it doesn’t sound right? You have to give me more than that.”

Alistair crossed his arms and evaluated her coolly, and for a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to tell her. “I suppose you’re right, but I am only telling you this because the fate of my country is in your hands. You cannot, under any circumstances, share this knowledge.” At her nod, he took a deep breath and said simply, “Archdemons are Old Gods.”

“ _WHAT?”_ Ali shouted as her knees suddenly went weak and liquid. She grasped at the wall to stay upright and pressed her face down to the cold stone, feeling the blood rush heavy through her ears as spots swam in front of her eyes. A moment later, she felt Alistair’s hand gently rest on top of her head.

“Sorry, I should probably have lead up to that a little bit more.” She could hear the amusement in his voice as he rubbed her hair comfortingly. “I forget sometimes that not everyone is as used to the idea as I am.”

Ali tilted her head – sure enough he was grinning at her. “You don’t say. Are they really Old Gods?”

“Yeppers. The ones from Tevinter. The big bad in my blight was Urthemiel, god of beauty – though youwouldn’t know it to look at him. There were seven gods all locked away underground, but sometimes the Darkspawn find one. No one knows why, but that’s what starts the Blight. Wardens can hear them in their dreams – something about the taint makes us all connected. That’s why it has to be a Warden who- uh, nevermind.”

Ali didn’t miss the way he cut himself off, and it was easy enough to connect those dots. _So a Warden has to kill the Archdemon. Interesting_.

“So the Old Gods start the Blight and Wardens know that. And since you aren’t having scary wet dreams about this one, then it means that what – it’s just a dragon?” Ali couldn’t help but be relieved by that conclusion, but Alistair looked at her strangely.

“Why do you sound happy about that?”

Smugly, she crossed her arms. “Because dragons are old hat to me by now. I’ve killed seven so far, and have my eye on three more.”

“Seven?” Now it was Alistair’s turn to look a little shaky. “Maker, why would you do that?”

“Um, because it’s the best part of my job? Plus, the skulls impress the hell out of the Orlesian courtiers.”

Alistair shook his head at her. “You are a strange one. I near pissed myself the first time we saw a dragon, and we barely got out alive.”

“Well, I’m terrified of Darkspawn, so I guess we’re even.” She replied easily. “So all I have to do is kill the dragon the usual way, and I should be able to kill Corypheus without his flame-y backup. No sweat.”

He looked unconvinced, but shrugged. “Should be. And if not, you know where to find me should you need a Warden for real. And… don’t you have Morrigan at Skyhold?”

“I do. Why?” Ali had had a few conversations with the sorceress, but she’d been very closed-mouthed on the subject of Darkspawn and the Blight. “Is she secretly a Gray Warden too?”

Now Alistair definitely looked ill at ease. “No, nothing like that. Just – she knows a lot, that one. If you find yourself between a rock and a hard place, she might have an answer. It won’t be one you like, but…”

Trailing off, he turned away and shoved his hands in his pockets, breathing deeply. “So what was all that about Cullen anyway?”

The abrupt change of subject pushed all thoughts of Morrigan out of Ali’s mind. For going on three whole minutes there, she’d forgotten all about her wretched state of heart, but the King’s question brought everything crashing back down. Copying his body language, she fell into step beside Alistair and they started ambling along the edge of the roof. “It really isn’t anything you need to worry about. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Alistair chewed on his bottom lip – a gesture that would have been thoroughly distracting under other circumstances. “I’ve known Cullen Rutherford for a long time. We were in Templar training together, back in another life. I wouldn’t say we were friends, exactly – I didn’t really have any friends. But I respected him, and we got on well enough. Later, at Kinloch-”

He stopped abruptly, glancing at Ali. She nodded, confirming that she knew what had happened there, and Alistair continued. “I wasn’t there when my lady found him. I heard about it later – the torture, the cage, and the demons. All I know is that he came through those doors looking like a dead man walking – and I mean that literally. He collapsed at my feet, pleading with me to kill all the mages. It was awful, seeing him like that. He’d always been so… competent – one of those fuckwits who was good at everything. I can’t imagine what it was like, staying anything close to human for weeks of what he endured. But when he broke, he broke _hard_. I honestly thought that was it for him, that he’d end up as another lyrium wrecked man sucking at the Chantry’s teat until he died a sad death too young. But then I saw him in Kirkwall, years later. I wasn’t supposed to be there – Meredith had ordered me to leave the city. But he got word to me and we met on my ship, just before I sailed.”

Ali was surprised at that – Cullen had never mentioned meeting with the King during that time. To be fair, she considered, he didn’t speak much of Kirkwall at all, and he might not want Varric to learn about the meeting.

“I was shocked when I saw him – he looked nothing like what I remembered from the Tower. He was himself again, or near abouts. He led with an apology, asking for my forgiveness that he wasn’t able to be of use to me during the Blight. He actually blamed himself for not holding up during torture, thought if he were a better man he would have been able to help us against Loghain.”

Ali let out a low whistle, impressed but not surprised. It sounded like something Cullen would think he needed to apologize for.

“Anyhow, it doesn’t matter what we talked about, the point is, I’ve seen Cullen go through a lot of things, and I have a lot of respect for him. But I’ve seen him at his best, and at his worst. And now he’s the foremost military advisor to the Inquisition, which is not at all beyond his scope of capabilities. That man is a lot of things, and right now, he has immense amounts of power. So yes, I do need to worry about it if he’s behaving erratically. I’m the King of Ferelden, remember? I can’t let heartbreaking whore-mongers with armies roam free across the Hinterlands.”

Ali stopped walking and leaned against the wall, thinking through the logic. Phrased that way, she didn’t have much of an excuse not to tell him and honestly, it was very tempting to unburden herself to someone trustworthy outside her immediate circle. “Fine. But I wish you had more wine for this conversation.”

Alistair gave her a cocky half smile and dug inside his doublet, triumphantly producing a small flask. “Courtesies of my old pal Oghren. I never leave the palace without it.”

It wasn't wine, exactly. It was more like grain alcohol with delusions of grandeur, but the burn it left down Ali's throat gave her the courage she needed to start speaking. "You want the short version or the long?"

"Long please!" He piped with an impish smile.

"Fine." Ali sank to the ground, leaning up against the wall and clutching the liquor like it was her path to safety. “I… don’t know how much you know about the makeup of the Inquisition. You know I have advisors, right?”

Alistair sank to the ground next to her. “Right. And Leliana’s told me a fair bit about all of you.” He caught the way Ali flinched at the name, and raised his eyebrows. “Although now I’m gathering that I shouldn’t take her word for it?”

“I don’t know. She’s all wrapped up in this too.” Ali took another drink, then set the flask down. Enough stalling. “There’s a whole lot of background here, but basically, Leliana and Josephine are sort of a pair, which left Cullen as my only real confidant. We got to be friends at Haven, but after it was destroyed… I don’t know, at some point he became my best friend.”

Alistair nodded. “I know how that goes. And then, what? You fell in love?”

“Not exactly.” Ali couldn’t believe she was about to have this conversation with the King of Ferelden, but if she was going to have it, she was really going to say it all. “We started getting each other off.”

“What?!?” The King’s face mouth dropped open, and the tips of his ears turned red.

Ali didn’t even try to stifle her giggle. “Look man, you asked for the long version. Do I need to sanitize it?”

“No, of course not.” Although his ears stayed a bit pink, he straightened his face admirably.

“Very well, then stop interrupting. It started after the battle at Adamant Fortress, when I came out of the Fade. I had a bad reaction after – all I wanted to do was fight or rut. Cullen found a way to… calm me down.”

“Effective.” Alistair said dryly.

“Very. And shut up. After that, it just kept happening. There were always all these bets about my personal life, and I was pretty well restricted in who I could dally with. At the time, Josephine was still dangling my hand in marriage like a worm on a hook, so I couldn’t do anything publicly, even if I wanted to. It made sense to go to my best friend for… stress relief, or whatever we were using to justify it that day. We had all these rules – only in Skyhold, no actual sex and never any kissing.”

“No kissing?”

“Yeah. At some point the bets changed from _who is The Inquisitor going to take to bed_ to _when is The Inquisitor going to kiss The Commander_ , so we were really careful not to trigger it.”

Alistair had been blushing steadily, but now he averted his face entirely and pressed a hand over his eyes. Ali sighed, knowing what was coming. “You were in the bet weren’t you? How much and when?”

Peeking through his fingers, he shrugged. “I put ten sovereigns down that he would kiss you the first time on his nameday. I take it I didn’t win?”

Ali had to smile. “No, sorry. On his nameday, I was in the Western Approach, probably killing something. And on mine, I was in a leaky tent on the Storm Coast, reading the latest issue of _The Randy Dowager_ with Cassandra. But nice try.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyhow, everyone has a bet on us, so we avoided the whole thing. It became kind of a game after a while – like how close could we come to the line without trashing the whole thing. And then it wasn’t a game anymore and…”

“You fell in love.” This time, there was no mirth in Alistair’s voice, only deep wells of sympathy.

“Yep. At least I did, and I think I thought he did too. The last time we… rummaged, he said he wanted to talk when we got back to Skyhold, and he looked…” She trailed off with a sniffle, pressing hands to eyes that suddenly felt too hot.

“Right. And then you went to the temple and saved his life. You said that earlier. So what happened after that?”

“He left in the middle of the night. I put myself through hell to save his rotten hide, and he just left me there.” She absolutely wasn’t going to cry, not sitting on the spot where the Archdemon had fallen, and not in front of the King of Ferelden. To keep her eyes dry, she let the anger well up inside to press out all the other feelings she had. “When I got back to Skyhold, he told me that I had been stupid to save him, that I was a whore, and that he didn’t love me. He said that he’d only ever been with me to make me complacent in my role as Inquisitor.”

“Ouch. And then?”

“And then I got the fuck out of there and found out about Blackwall.” Ali concluded, feeling drained and spent. “A little while after that, we all gathered in the War Room. It turned out Leliana knew about Blackwall the whole time, and when I called her out on that, she announced to the room that…”

“Oh no. What did she say?”

Ali pressed her fingers under her browbone, trying to physically push away the headache that was forming. “She said Cullen’s fingers smelled like my cunt. And he didn’t say _anything_ to that, just stood there silently and let me deal with all the fallout. And then I went to Orlais, and I saw him there and he still didn’t say anything about it, and he could barely even stand to look at me and Alistair, it was so awful you can’t imagine and I want to cut his stupid head off but I can’t because I love him too much.”

Finally out of words, she slumped back against the wall, sipping at the flask and watching Alistair process all the information she’d given him. After a few minutes of silence, Alistair cracked his knuckles and nodded decisively. “Did he mean it?”

“Sorry?” Ali wasn’t sure where that question had come from. Hadn’t she just explained how he’d said the worst things imaginable to her and broken her heart into a billion tiny pieces?

“Nevermind, we’ll come back to that.” Alistair shifted around until he was facing her, and reached out for the flask. “I have a few other questions for you though, if you don’t mind.”

It was dawning on Ali that the King of Ferelden might be an incorrigible gossip, but there didn’t seem to be a polite way to refuse. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Did you know that Leliana knew about you two?”

Ali shrugged. “No. A few of the others did, but I really thought we’d kept it quiet enough. I probably should have suspected about Leliana – after all, she was my spymaster.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, was.” Ali furrowed her brow as she considered the question. “Or is, maybe. I don’t know. She had no right to say what she did. I have her on a probation of sorts, but the situation will have to be resolved when I get back. Just another problem to add to the heap.”

The King chewed on his lower lip, lost in his own thoughts. “Leliana is a tough one. I love her like a sister, but even I can admit that she’s a little bit crazy. The first time I met her, she told us that she’d had a vision from the Maker.”

Nodding, Ali tried not to make a face. “I’d heard that. And I always knew she was a strange one, but I never thought she was cruel. I don’t know if I can have that around me – I got so angry at her that it made me cruel too.”

“Hmm.” Alistair considered for a moment before he started to speak. “The thing about Leliana – she wasn’t raised with the same sense of right and wrong that most of the world has. She was a bard, through and through. When the shit hit the fire, she came down on the right side of things, but it was a near thing. Her belief in the Maker is real and so is her loyalty. The problem is that she wants all of the power and all of the secrets. She wants to keep the people she loves safe, and she thinks she should be the one to decide what secrets should be kept. I still remember the fight she had with me after the Landsmeet. I made the decision to kill Loghain, and she couldn’t accept that I hadn’t asked her opinion about it first. She literally couldn’t deal with the fact that she wasn’t on the inside of that decicsion. I think you scared her when you called her out, and she didn’t know how to deal with that. And Alinora…”

“What?” Ali asked, almost afraid of what he was going to say.

“I don’t think she’s making you cruel. If you were, you wouldn’t be here talking to me. I think she made you angry, and that’s okay. If you’re going to have a woman like her working for you, she needs to know that you have limits. But enough about Leliana, I have another question about Cullen.”

Of _course_ he had another question, Ali thought grumpily, but all she said was “Fine.”

“When you talked to him at Skyhold - what _exactly_ did he say?”

“I don’t remember the exact words,” Ali lied, not wanting to admit how they were burned into her memory. “But they were something about how I shouldn’t be insulted that it was a sham, and that he enjoyed our time together because most of his experience has been with more professional women, I was quite on the same caliber.”

“Ouch.” Alistair was silent for a second. “Last question – do you want to forgive him?”

 _That_ was a question that Ali had no answer for, and she just stared at the king and his stupid expectant expression. If trying to figure out what to do about Blackwall was a boulder she had to roll up a hill, trying to figure out what to do about Cullen was a damn mountain. Finally, when the silence got too great, she licked her lips and said nervously, “I think he made it very clear that what I want doesn’t matter.”

Very slowly, Alistair reached out for her hand and clasped it between his. “Alinora, I think he made it very clear that he loves you.”

She pulled her hand away and pushed to her feet. The King’s words made her heart thud heavily in her chest, and every fiber of her being told her to get away before he made the gaping wound of her heart even more of a joke then it already was. “No, he doesn’t and if you think he does then I’m telling the story wrong!”

He leapt after her and caught her sleeve, pulling her back down to the ground. “Please, hear me out. You said it yourself, you aren’t at your best right now and I’ll bet you haven’t thought this through in any real way. You can’t have, not with everything else that’s going on. Just let me explain.”

It would have been terribly rude to run away, Ali decided, so she settled back down to listen, keeping her face as stoic as she could.

“I’ve known Cullen a long time, and he isn’t a stupid man. But when it comes to emotions, he’s a bit of an idiot. To the best of my knowledge, he’s never been in love before and considering what happened to him when he was barely a man, there’s no way he can handle it without freaking out a bit.”

Ali just stared at him, unwilling to let even a flicker of a thought show. Alistair rolled his eyes and tried a different tact. “You know all the stories of how the Queen and I fell in love, I’ll bet."

That required an answer, so Ali gave a tiny nod. “I read about it. Grand love and a grand adventure.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t like that. We were nineteen, her and I. Two virgins without a clue, trying to save the world with our rag-tag little group. Our courtship was held over campfires with soggy rations and smelly boots. Our first night together was in a tiny tent on stony ground, trying not to listen to Oghren’s belches from across the camp. Unconventional is the best way you could possibly describe it, but we made it through, just trying to take it one day at a time. Whenever I tried to think about a world that came _after_ , I just… lost the plot. I felt so much for her, and everything was too big and too scary to process.”

“And then at the Landsmeet, she made me King. I didn’t know if I wanted it, but there was no way we’d let Anora take the crown, so I had no choice. My lady, bless her, announced that she would rule at my side. In addition to the work she was doing as a Warden, she was a Cousland, and I badly needed her name to help me cement my rule. I loved her so much, and I knew she loved me, but we weren’t ready for marriage, not yet. We talked about it that night, trying to work out how to proceed, and decided that duty called for us to wed, and that was that.”

“Okay…”

“But then, the night before the battle…” Alistair swallowed and looked away in a now-familiar gesture. Whatever it was, he couldn’t tell her all of it. “Morrigan came to the Queen with some information, and it was very bad. It meant I had to make a choice, choose between our love and the world – and it wasn’t a pretty choice. I didn’t handle it well and I said some awful things to her. I accused her of using me, of not loving me enough to stand strong in the face of adversity. I told her I would die for her, and she started crying and… it was terrible. In the end, she convinced me of what had to be done, so I did what she asked and we all survived the battle.”

Ali blinked at this influx of information. What could he have needed to do the night before the battle to prevent death? Why would it be a betrayal to the Queen? And what did Morrigan have to do with it? If this was part of the same secret he wouldn’t reveal earlier, it had something to do with the Archdemon being an ancient god, and maybe why a Warden had to be the one to kill it.

A thought occurred to her, and she did some quick mental calculations. If the blight was a decade ago, and Morrigan’s son had just turned nine…

 _Maker on Toast!_ Ali nearly said something to Alistair about her theory, but kept her mouth pressed shut. If the heir to the Ferelden throne really was earning extra pocket money by weeding her herb garden, then Ali didn’t want to know about it. Kieran was a sweet child, and there was nothing to indicate he was secretly a villain. When she got back to Skyhold, she and Morrigan would have a talk, but there was nothing to be gained by calling Alistair out on it now. Confirming this information would just make things worse – besides, it was a secret that had nothing to do with her, and she was learning about keeping her nose out of other people’s secrets.

If Alistair noticed she’d drifted, he showed no sign of it, and he was still talking about the night he’d fought with the Queen. “If I’d known it was coming, and if I’d had time to think on it, I might have done what your man Cullen did. To keep the woman I loved safe, I might have pushed her away as completely as I could.”

“Why do you say that? Why do you insist that he doesn’t hate me?” There was true anguish in her voice, as Ali tried to fathom why Alistair was twisting the knife so. All thoughts of the Old God fled when a new rush of sorrow and shame washed over her.

“Because he didn’t call you a whore, Quiz.” Alistair reached for her hands. “Think about what he actually said. He compared you to one, sort of, and it sounded terrible. But what he actually said was that he likes you best, that you are the best he ever had. Those were carefully crafted words, and ones he picked very deliberately to wound you without any real insult.”

Ali wanted to argue, but she forced herself to stop and think about the exact phrasing of everything Cullen had said to her in his office. She had been unprofessional, that was true. Saving him at the risk of intelligence on Samson was probably the right decision, but she’d made it from an emotional place, not a practical one. And Alistair was right, he hadn’t actually called her a whore. He’d just cut at her, swiped away until she got angry and ran off, like he knew she would.

But why? That was the real question. If she accepted Alistair’s hypothesis as true, if Cullen really loved her, then why would he hurt her so? If they couldn’t be together, why wouldn’t he just talk to her? Why did it have to end in hate?

_So I can move on._

As soon as she thought it, Ali knew that was right. Cullen would do anything to make sure she survived the coming battles, and at the end of it, he wanted her to be able to leave with a clean conscience. It was the final amends for his part in forcing her hand when they’d gotten to Skyhold. He was giving her a path home, a free pass to leave and set her feet to wherever she wanted to go. If he’d just talked to her, she would have set her heart on what came _after_ , and like Alistair said, after was a big and scary place.

“Oh Maker.” Ali whispered as the full picture dawned on her. Emotions welled up inside, and she pressed her head forward, curling over her knees as she thought all the thoughts she’d pressed away over the last weeks. “Oh Maker and Bride, what do I do?”

Alistair slid over next to her and pulled her up, pressing her face to his shoulder. “You have to decide, Quiz. Was he right to do as he did?”

Ali sniffled and blinked against the King’s doublet. “Probably. I would have fought him if I realized at the time but…”

“But what?”

“But he’s better at chess than I am.” Ali sat up straight and wiped at her eyes, feeling on solid ground for the first time in ages. “He beats me every time I play. He beats everybody. He sees moves that I never even imagined and the same is true when it comes to the war. Cullen is the Commander of my Armies because he understands the long game, and I trust him. If this is how things have to be, then I will trust him.”

Alistair dug out a handkerchief and dabbed at her face, wiping away the smears of kohl that were no doubt streaking her cheeks. “Excellent. I hoped you’d say that. What about Leliana and the rest of them?”

“What of them?”

“You’ll have to deal with her when you get back to Skyhold, and Blackwall too. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

Ali opened her mouth to give a flip answer, but found she had nothing joking to say. “I don’t know. Leliana hurt me very badly, and worst of all, she did it in front of my people. I want to break her, punish her, but that doesn’t seem very moral, does it?”

Alistair shrugged. “It’s your right if you want to. The question is, what kind of leader do you want to be? You can rule through fear, or love, or a combination of both. You have to decide who you want to be and take that path, no matter how dark the forest gets.”

“Poetic.” Ali replied with a little smirk.

“Wynne told me that when I took the throne, and she was usually right about things like that. So tell me Inquisitor, who do you want to be?”

That seemed like a very big question, so Ali stood to give herself time. The sun was starting to set over Denerim, and the whole city was bathed in soft orange light. She leaned against the wall and looked out over the expanse of buildings, replaying the last few weeks and thinking back further, back across Skyhold and Haven, back to the Circle and Ostwick, trying to find a common thread of self to lead her to a conclusion.

There it was. Ali found the thread and pulled on it, letting herself sink into the conclusion she’d found. She knew who she was, and she knew what she wanted. It would be hard, but she was loved, and the people who loved her would respond to her in kind. As the plan formed, she turned to Alistair, smiling so widely that she thought her cheeks might split right open.

“That’s a pretty sight, Quiz. Found your answer?” He joined her at the wall and met her smile with one of her own.

“I did, Your Majesty. Though I will need your assistance, and a few favors.”

He knocked on the wall with his fist lightly. “As I can help you, so I shall. Would you like to discuss this on the way to dinner?”

Ali shook her head, loving the peace and certainty in her heart. “I cannot stay. After you answer, I must go to Val Royeaux to see Celene, and then I’m going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up - we finally deal with Blackwall.


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you know what sucks? When you upgrade your laptop to Windows 10 and it makes your computer crash! I lost a bunch of revisions, so I have to rewrite some of the upcoming chapters.

Once she was in sight of Skyhold, Ali spurred her horse harder, anxious to get off the road. This last trip from Val Royeaux was the final straw for her constitution – every step from the Bog Unicorn’s thundering hooves sent stabbing pains of agony up her spine. While in Orlais, she’d picked up more stimulants from Vivienne’s house, but they were losing their effectiveness as she used more and more of them. She’d started burning lyrium to stay alert – an old trick from her scholarly days that left her feeling ashy and hungover. Added to the hunger and mental exhaustion, Ali figured she only had a few more hours left in her before her body would force her to rest whether she wanted it to or not.

_Best get this done then._

She thundered over the bridge and into the courtyard as her soldiers cheered at her return. All three of her advisors were waiting at the top of the stairs, giving every appearance of being happy to see her. They must have controlled the fallout then – not let anyone outside of the inner circle know of the schisms and lines that were shattering the highest ranks of the Inquisition.

_That should make things easier, later._

Ali knew better. She had not left things in a good state all those weeks ago, and she'd gone out of her way to keep them in agonizing anticipation of what she might do in her rage. As she walked up the stairs, there was satisfaction in seeing the way Josie's knuckles were white as she clutched her writing board. Leliana was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Cullen – well he couldn’t even look her in the eye.

_Oh Maker, let them have learned this lesson. I can’t do this again._

As soon as their courtesies were done, Ali led them into the Keep but stopped before they pushed into the War Room. She didn't think she could look at them without breaking her veneer of calm, so she occupied herself by picking some dirt from under her fingernail. "Let us not pretend that you don't know what has to be done."

It had taken a little while to hash out the details with Celene and Alistair, but Ali was confident in her choice. She was about to make a statement – a big one, about her role as Inquisitor and the respect she expected to command from her people. Of course, in order to make that statement, she had to actually go through with this plan. There was no room for hesitation, or doubts, or second thoughts. Blackwall, Leliana, Josephine, Cullen – they’d all betrayed her in one way or another, and they all deserved what was coming.

Veering to the right, she approached her throne and settled herself as imperiously as she could. She was painfully aware that her clothes were salt-stained and that she reeked of horse. Still, she was the Inquisitor and the daughter of Lord and Lady Trevelyan. She didn't need clothes to show her power, and she prayed that her advisors were smart enough not to challenge her in front of everyone.

"Commander, bring up the prisoner. Leliana, I require the sword from my chambers."

Josephine gave a tiny gasp at that, and from the corner of her eye, Ali saw her hands flutter up to cover her mouth. Willing herself not to break, she gestured to the diplomat and said viciously. "Don't you go anywhere, mind. You get to clean up the mess."

Leliana overheard that and turned a murderous glare towards the throne. Ali paid her no notice beyond a casual gesture. "Fetch me my sword. Don't make me ask again."

The spymaster only took an instant, and all but threw the sword at the Ali's feet. She went to comfort Josie, and the two women took their places, hands clutched together. From the throne, she watched the room fill with people, more and more as word spread around Skyhold of the impending judgment. All her friends were here, standing throughout the room, looking nervous at the sight of her on the throne, and a little green at the sight of the sword in front of her.

Dorian tried to catch Ali’s eye, but she ignored him. If she looked to her friends now, she’d never make it through this without losing face, but she couldn’t let them interfere. Just as Sera started to break free of Vivienne’s grip, Cole pulled Cassandra’s head down and started whispering urgently in her ear. She looked surprised, but moved to the other woman’s side and wrapped her arms around Sera’s shoulders, keeping her pinned down. Solas looked at Cole, surprised, but he stepped up next to Bull, putting a hand on his shoulder and locking him in place.

 _Thank you for helping, Cole._ Ali thought clearly and deliberately. _This will all be over soon_.

A few minutes later, Cullen emerged from the dungeons with a firm grip on Blackwall’s elbow. The false Warden had his hands bound in front of him, but otherwise, he looked nothing like a prisoner. His beard was trimmed, hair neatly combed. There were no signs of starvation, or confinement, and Ali was gladdened to recognize that her orders had been followed. The man even had a bit of sunburn, for Andraste's sake.

It was hard to look at Blackwall. She’d always liked him, liked the way he took care of things around Skyhold without being asked, liked the way he put himself in front of danger without any hesitation. But in Val Royeaux, she’d learned that he was really quite a lovely person in his own right and she understood why Josie had fallen smitten. It hurt to see him step out from the dungeons – no matter his crimes or punishment, he was her friend.

Cullen dragged Blackwall before the throne, where he knelt without any prodding. Before Cullen stepped back, he gave Ali an agonized look and opened his mouth to speak. She held up a hand to forestall him, having utterly no interest in anything he might have to offer to the proceedings. The last thing she wanted was for someone to change her mind about her chosen course. Twisting her lips on a mockery of a smile, she sneered, "You get to _watch_."

Her words hit Cullen like a physical blow and he flinched away from her. She’d chosen that phrase specifically to remind him of the night in his office after they’d read that terrible book, but she’d been afraid he wouldn’t remember. But he did remember, after all, and he felt every bit of the pain she’d tried to inflict.

_This is really quite satisfying._

Sniffling, Josephine stepped forward and focused on the paper she gripped. "Inquisitor, before... before you is T-Thom Rainier, known to the Inquisition as Warden Blackwall. He stands accused of -"

"We are familiar with his crimes." Ali cut off the recitation, mostly out of fear that Josephine was going to faint. "They are dire indeed, and compounded by the years of deceit you have perpetuated upon Thedas. How does the prisoner plead?"

Blackwall didn't look up, but his voice was strong and sure. "Guilty. I am a murderer, and a fraud."

"Hmph. Honesty at last." She let out a joyless laugh, reveling in the looks she was getting from all those who had played her false. Leliana was crying now too, and Ali wondered if she'd be able to push Cullen over the edge. Based in the whiteness of his lips, she guessed that vomiting was more likely than tears. "We have spent these last weeks investigating the accusations against you, and at last we have found the truth."

Pressing her boots against the floor, she pushed herself up straight and addressed the gathered crowd. "We have heard from our cousin, the Empress of Orlais. During the course of her own investigations, she discovered the records of the traitor Gaspard. It was on his orders that this crime was committed, and he deliberately manipulated his most righteous men into debasing their souls for his own gain."

In one smooth motion, Ali stood. Holding her sword at her side, she started down the steps to where Blackwall _still_ wasn't looking up. "No crime was committed that day, not by you, and not by your men. But you ran, Rainier. It is a most confusing thing. You ran like a dog, saving your own skin, but then you dedicated yourself to a noble cause that wasn't yours. You have endangered the Inquisitor's person and the Inquisition's mission through your fraud, but you also remained sane where a true Warden might have fallen and fought nobly when called to duty. Can you shed any light on these contradictions?"

At last he looked up, past the sword and her sweat-stained clothing, up to where she stared at him with all the command she could muster. "No, my lady. I have nothing to say, save that I pledged myself to your cause, and whatever my fate is, I thank you for your judgment."

Now that the time was here, Ali's mouth was dry and she offered a silent prayer to Andraste to get her through this. Slowly, so her movements could be seen by all, she lifted the sword and placed the tip of it just below his ear. "I sentence you to death, Thom Rainier."

The whole room let out a sigh, like everybody had been holding their breath for the whole of her judgment. From behind her on the dais, Ali heard Cullen start saying the Chant under his breath, and a scuffling noise told her Josie was just barely hanging onto consciousness. Clearly, she'd dragged this on long enough.

Ali continued as if she had never stopped. "For your crimes, I sentence you to the death that all men of your caliber should have. Death in righteous battle, or should you persevere, a death in bed, surrounded by your children, celebrating your life well lived."

She went to move the sword and trembled from its weight, taking a tiny nick out of his earlobe. Blackwall flinched a little in confusion and she gave a tiny grunt of apology. Resting the sword on his shoulder, she addressed the room at large. "For your service to us, I dub thee Ser Thom Rainier, Knight of the Inquisition, First of the Order of the Blackwall."

Blackwall was gaping up at her, eyes full of shock and gratitude. Ali extended a hand down to him. "Rise, Serrah." She pulled him to his feet with a lurch as the room erupted into cheers, and he gripped her forearm with trembling fingers.

"My lady, I - I - _I thank you._ " He couldn't believe it, but he was smiling now, under his beard. Joy bubbled up inside of her - she'd pulled this off! Clutching him by his shoulders, Ali kissed him firmly on each cheek before looking him dead in the eye.

"Will you serve the Inquisition, Blackwall?"

He nodded seriously, fighting back a smile. "I am your man until the end of time."

Ali turned him around so he could face the crowd and risked a glance behind her. Leliana had sagged against the throne, whispering something under her breath. Josephine was tipped backwards onto Cullen, who had the strangest look on his face. Ali didn't want to think about him right now, so she extended a hand back to Josie.

"A lot of people aren't going to like this, royal decrees or no. I told you you'd have a mess to clean up."

Josie stared at Ali with big eyes full of confusion and hope. She glanced between her and Blackwall like she was waiting for another trap to spring.

Ali crossed her arms and shook her head. "Go kiss your man, sweetheart. He's earned it. You both have."

Josie ran across the dais and launched herself at Blackwall who caught her without hesitation. Spinning her around, he kissed her soundly, bending her back over his arm. Ali sighed as Josephine's foot popped up from the satisfaction of being kissed. Leliana came to stand next to her, face impassive.

Ali passed her sword to her spymaster. "THAT is what I would have done if you'd told me."

For once, the redhead was at a loss for words. "My lady, I-"

“Shut up.” Ali needed to be damn sure about this before they moved on. “You had no right to keep secrets from me, and you had no right to say what you did. I could have ordered your death for it, and no one would have stopped me.”

Leliana blinked, then looked away, letting her hood cast her face into shadow. “I know.”

“But I didn’t want… No. I want the world to be better than it is.” This was the part that Ali hadn’t been able to find the words for, even over the long hours of riding. “This is about forgiveness and hope and….”

“Grace.” Leliana finished quietly, reaching out to clasp Ali’s hand. “You bring us grace.”

Suddenly Ali was tired of this, all the lies and games. Her anger was gone, and her point was made. She just wanted it to be done, wanted to get to the part of the night where she could be unconscious. "Yes, exactly. So can we just be okay with each other again?"

Leliana smiled at her, a true smile of friendship with none of her normal snideness poking through. "Of course Alinora. Of course we are, although I have some matters we should discuss.”

Ali reached out and straightened the other woman's hood. "Tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate Thom and his lady. Would you mind taking care of my sword? I badly need a bath."

It looked like Leliana wanted to say something else, but all she did was glance back at Cullen before nodding formally and taking her leave.

 _That's two down. Time to finish this._ Ali was very conscious that she was standing near Cullen on a very public dais in full view of Skyhold. Her skin felt too tight, and she was sure her lungs used to work better than this. To buy herself a little time, she swept her eyes over the crowd, making sure that there were no other problems to deal with.

Blackwall and Josie were still in the thick of things, accepting congratulations and embraces. Sera was trying to climb onto a table – no doubt to make a toast – but Dorian was holding her back and hollering for Bull to help him. But Bull was standing in the midst of the crowd, staring at her with everything he had. When Ali met his gaze, his eye slowly closed and he bent his head, full of regret.

_Honestly, what a drama queen._

When he looked up, Ali just shook her head and made a face before putting up her hand in the “horn-up” gesture the Chargers used. Bull’s face brightened enormously and he gave her a lazy smile before turning away.

 _Well, that’s everyone except for… fuck_.

Suddenly, the room wavered a little, like it had just been dipped underwater very quickly. Ali shook her head and pressed a hand across her eyes, but everything stayed a little gelatinous. One of her knees buckled, sending a shooting pain up her leg and into her hip.

Warmth spread across her back, and it took a second for her to realize that the cause was the big hand laying across her waist. It was Cullen, of course, standing next to her and quite literally having her back.

 _Did I already talk to him?_ Ali’s thoughts were getting more and more muddled, but she was reasonably certain that she hadn’t gotten him to un-hate her yet. She looked up at him for a clue, but he wasn’t looking at her. His jaw was tight, and he had that vein pulsing in his neck that meant he was really very mad at her.

“’m sorry, you’re mad.” Ali whispered. “I should have asked you first. He won’t outrank you.”

Cullen snorted, but his only other response was to wrap his hand in her belt and twist. It tightened uncomfortably around her waist, but she didn’t mind. If he hadn’t done that, she probably would have fallen over in front of all of Skyhold.

 _What a nice coincidence_.

Someone else stepped up beside her and tucked a hand through her elbow, leaning in intimately. It was Vivienne, and the smooth sandalwood scent of her made Ali want to drift away. “How many potions did you drink?”

“Hmm?” Ali tried to focus on Viv, but couldn’t see beyond her head. “Can I try your hat on sometime? Cole never lets me.”

“Too many.” Vivienne said over her head. Who was she talking to?

Ali tried to turn, but she got distracted by the way the candlelight glinted off the mosaics on the wall.

_Skyhold is so pretty! And so is Vivi! And so is Cullen!_

And then she was moving. It was like walking, because her legs went back and forth, but someone was holding her up like a puppet. Vivienne was chattering loudly about reports that couldn’t wait, and Cullen was protesting having to go to the War Room right now.

Then a door shut and Ali got swept up, into big warm arms against a cool metal chest. She tried not to burrow in – that wasn’t allowed, against the rules, someone could see, but she didn’t have to resist long.

Other hands set her down on a big soft place and she could burrow into that, and did. Voices around her said _I’ll get Cass to spell you_ and _food in the morning, ask Solas for broth._

And then the Fade beckoned her and Ali sunk down into it, almost missing the brush of scarred lips across her forehead and a pretty Orlesian voice saying _I won’t tell_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know this isn't what happens with Blackwall in the game, but honestly - I like him a lot and I think Ali would give him big props. 
> 
> Next time, she talks to Cullen.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone cares, I made a screenshot of Ali into my icon.

_The dragon inched them backwards, every sweep of the glittering tail further obliterating the path that would have led to safety. Talbot eyed the giant beast warily, watching its snout for the telltale signs of frost that precluded another wave of freezing breath._

_Beside him, Catarina laughed, loud and brash. In spite of all the ways she aggravated him, the ex-Templar was glad to have her by his side. He would never admit it to her, and growled in her direction. “Foolish girl! This is all your doing!”_

_Her only response was a dazzling display of perfect teeth as she brushed her golden hair over her shoulder, drawing his attention down her lush body to where the dragon’s talons had left a rent in her armor. He could see her creamy skin, and the barest curve of the treasures she kept hidden underneath._

_“Admit it, fool. You’re having fun.” Her nervous glance backwards belied her flippant words, and Talbot followed her gaze to the cliff edge that was drawing ever closer to their retreat. He heard the tumescence of the Waking Sea behind them, promising that the tide had come in fully to crash against the rocks below them._

_The tide…_

_Talbot turned back to the dragon, raising his massive Templar shield to deflect the dragon’s frozen breath. They fought the beast with everything they had, but despite ruining one of its wings, the great beast showed no signs of falling._

_The wing…_

_Before he’d left their party, Eagle had told them the story of a great wyvern hunt. Talbot remembered his wit during the final fight and an uncharacteristically bold plan presented in his mind._

_They were almost at the cliff edge now. Catarina was looking ever more nervous, and he knew there was no time for delay. Sheathing his sword, he reached for her hand and pulled her tight against his body, rejoicing in the press of her curves against his chest. “My lady, did you know that dragons can’t swim?”_

_Her eyes widened as she realized his plan, but her smile turned wicked as she wrapped her arms around his waist. The dragon lunged, and Talbot threw himself over the cliff, twisting his body to protect the precious cargo he held._

_The pair plummeted down, down, down to the waiting embrace of the Waking Sea, where foamy waves crested over menacing rocks…_

**_To be continued in the next chapter of The Harlot of Andraste:_ **

**_Part 5: The Fade’s Embrace_ **

**_*****_ **

Cullen tossed the book aside with a sigh. He’d been sitting in the Inquisitor’s room for the last seven hours, and he had hours to go until Cassandra came to relieve him. He’d tried to use the time wisely, but there was only so much he could get done when he was trapped in the room with no access to the War Table or his lieutenants. When he’d found the serial that Cass had left behind, he’d been unable to resist catching up on the latest chapter.

Normally, he quite enjoyed Varric’s stories, although he would never admit that to the infuriating dwarf. This time, he’d found no respite from his worries in the pages, as every interaction of the fictional characters just reminded him of the current wretched state of his world – a state he couldn’t blame on anyone but himself.

These last weeks had been a hell purely of his own making. Although he’d been absolutely confident in his chosen plan, he’d seen his mistake as soon as Leliana opened her big mouth in the War Room. He had thought he was keeping his Inquisitor safe, but all he had done was cut away the support she needed, the support he’d pledged to her with word and heart. There was no way he could have known what was coming when he’d said all those things to her, but he knew that was no excuse.

And then she’d left, ridden away into the sunset to fix yet another problem they’d created for her. Cullen had stayed behind just long enough to face the wrath of her people, and he’d accepted it willingly, gladly even. Dorian’s fist in his face had felt righteous, and Cassandra’s words of anger had jabbed into his heart like they were coming home. Two of his best friends, his sister and brother, tearing him down for the sake of the woman they all loved.

He was grateful for it, for punishing him with even a fraction of what he deserved.

The last thing he’d wanted to do was to ride to Val Royeaux and appear before the Inquisitor, but he’d done it, brutally sectioning off his heart and locking it away so duty could come first. Blackwall’s situation was a dangerous one, and the Inquisition simply couldn’t bear to have such a security risk out in the wild for their enemies to find. Halfway across the Waking Sea, he’d realized the hypocrisy of his thoughts. He’d blamed Ali for what happened at the Temple, accused her of saving him for her own reasons instead of thinking of the cause. But if she hadn’t saved him, if he’d fallen to Red Lyrium…

As Cullen Rutherford, his life had no value. But as Commander of the Inquisition, he was too precious to let fall to the enemy. If he defected under the influence of the cursed mineral, he would doom their cause in an instant. His death would have left a hole in the chain of command – one that would have dealt a serious blow to morale among all levels of the Inquisition. So she’d done the right thing, just like she always did.

It had been hard to see her in the jail cell. Her cheeks were hollow, and the darkness under her eyes hadn’t been caused by any cosmetic. But the worst of it had been the blankness in her gaze, the way she’d seemed empty of everything except the next step in her duty. So yes, he’d let her see the plaidweave, and when a spark of awareness showed in her dead green eyes, he’d wished he had more to give her, wished with all his heart that he could still sweep her up in his arms and make terrible jokes until she smiled again. But that wasn’t his place anymore, that bridge was a burned and useless shell. So he’d gone to Celene and done his best, toasting and talking with all the leaders of her army, garnering pledges of support he could pour at her feet as insufficient offerings. There was no joy in that dinner, but he pretended there was.

During the trip back to Skyhold, Blackwall had looked at him with the kindest eyes he’d ever seen and asked him if he needed to talk. When Cullen had balked, the man pointed out, not incorrectly, that he would be sentenced to death within a fortnight, so his secrets would remain safe. Cullen couldn’t take him up on it, but he had accepted the handshake and nod of solidarity, trying to take comfort in having one person understand what he had done.

But then Ali had come back to Skyhold, cold and sharp and glittering with hate. The exhaustion was still there in every line of her body, but she seemed… tempered, somehow. Like every bit of her had been through a forge, crushed between hammer and anvil to take away all her imperfections and impurities.

It was horrifying. Her impurities were the parts he’d loved best.

But even that wasn’t right. She’d been playing a game, giving one last warning shot to those who had hurt her so badly. With one speech from her throne, she’d solved the entire mess, sliced right through it with the sword she’d once hated, granting punishment and forgiveness in equal weight. There were plenty of people demanding a death sentence, and Ali had delivered, even if it was in name only. But she’d done so much more – shown loyalty would be rewarded, that the Inquisition was a force for forgiveness in Thedas, that they held themselves to a higher standard and would operate in kind.

When she’d finished, it had taken every bit of Cullen’s self-control to keep from dropping to his knees and kissing her feet. How could he possibly have treated such a woman so, and how could he ever ask for that forgiveness for himself?

The temptation passed as soon as he saw the way her leg buckled, how her spine was wrenched with stress and fatigue. Without even thinking, he’d moved to her back and held her up. Then she’d apologized, of all things, and he’d known she was in a very sorry state indeed. Maker bless Vivienne, for she’d known what was happening, seen how Ali’s symptoms matched up with too much of whatever potion she’d been taking. Together, they’d gotten her upstairs without causing a fuss, and the mage had left to spread a pretty story of the Inquisitors necessary magical rituals to recover from her adventure.

So now he sat behind her desk, without even a serial to distract himself from the situation. Ali lay across the room, buried in her blankets and dead to the world, just the way she had been for the last day and a half. Every so often, she would stir from her sleep, but there was no true waking there. They’d planned to leave her alone to rest, but she’d barely been asleep for a few minutes before the spells started. Frost had crackled from her hand, sending whorls of ice up her wall and rendering her bedclothes solid with the weight of it. Every few hours, something else came up – lightning or fire, or sometimes all weathers at once.

Since then, either he or Cassandra had been here at all times, ready to Dispel the spells that kept her from resting. Solas had slept long enough to check on her in the Fade, but he had confirmed that her magic outbursts were nothing more than her exhausted body trying to heal itself. Cullen hadn’t wanted to stay, but he couldn’t deny that he was needed, so he’d taken his shift without a word of protest.

But oh, how he wanted to. He shouldn’t be anywhere near here – he should be prepping Cassandra to take his duties for when he was inevitably banished from all Inquisition lands. He didn’t want to be useless, and he planned to plead with her to send him to the Western Approach, to let him protect their troops from the wildlife and darkspawn that lead constant forays into their territory. If that was denied him, he would head into the Frostbacks, join one of the raiding parties trying to find old treasures for the Inquisition until his sorry life was spent.

Sighing, he pushed away from the desk and moved to her tiny bookcase. There wasn’t much of interest there – most of it was magical tomes or romantic novels. The former were of no interest to him, and he would claim the latter weren’t either – though truthfully, he’d read most of them already. He was trying to decide between leafing through _Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them_ or _The Secret Scoundrel_ , when a grunt sounded behind him.

He whirled around, ready to Dispel whatever spell Ali had dreamt up this time. But to his shock, she was awake, sitting up and peering at him from behind the wild mess of hair that haloed her head.

“Cullen? What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Her voice sounded like creaky hinges, and she reached up to rub her throat.

“Nothing is wrong Inquisitor. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half.” He stepped across the room and stood by the door, ready to leave at her dismissal. “There were some magical outbursts, so Seeker Cassandra and I have been keeping watch.”

Ali nodded, then shifted uncomfortably. He thought it was his presence that discomfited her, but something in the way she wriggled and grimaced made him reconsider. “Do you need to have a pee?”

He’d spoken without thinking, and blushed instantly, but Ali didn’t notice. Instead, gratitude filled her face and she tossed back the covers, leaping from the bed and stumbling against the wall. She dashed towards her bathing chamber, shouting over her shoulder “Yes thanks but stay there!”

Cullen couldn’t help chuckling a little at her tone, and he tried very hard not to think about the way her bare legs had flashed at him as she run away in a whorl of hair. To distract himself, he set out the pastries they’d been keeping warm for her, and started preparing a cup of tea.

A few minutes later, Ali emerged from the other room, wiping the remains of some water off her face. She’d wrapped herself in a dressing gown, and the disheveled woman he’d glimpsed earlier was already transforming back into the poised noblewoman she often appeared as. Her face lit up when she saw the food, and she shoved him away from the small table. “A day and a half?” she asked, before taking a massive bite of a sausage roll.

He blinked away his confusion. She was talking to him like she always did – perhaps with a little more reserve, but with none of the bile he was expecting. “Yes. We tried to wake you a few times, but you were dead asleep. Solas said we should leave you till you came about on your own time. You came in after dinner, and we’re just about to the ninth bell of two days after.”

“Hmm.” Ali considered as she drank down her tea, then handed him the cup for a refill. “Any other problems besides the mana bursts?”

“No.” Cullen kept his face away from her, trying to remain professional. “We have reports organized for when you want them. Sera insisted you’d sleep better if you bathed, so Cass and Dorian washed you down and changed your clothes. They didn’t know to braid your hair though, so you’re a little…” He handed her the mug and waved vaguely at her head. “…curly.”

Ali patted her hair with a grimace, but shrugged and took the mug. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” She sipped the tea and appraised him over the lip, giving him the same uncomfortable feeling he felt whenever Cole looked at him too intently. “I didn’t know you had so much mean in you.”

Though her tone hadn’t changed, Cullen knew what she meant immediately, and he took a small step back. The last thing he’d expected was for her to bring this up _now_. He’d thought he would be called before her on the throne, be publicly eviscerated and humiliated. That’s what he _deserved_.

“Inquisitor, I don’t think…”

She cocked an eyebrow and set down the mug before crossing her arms and leaning back against the desk. “I think we should talk about it, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

If _he_ didn’t want to? Cullen was reeling, trying to rationalize how she could possibly be giving him such a chance. “No I do, I just don’t know how to explain….”

Ali pointed at the couch and he sat down dutifully while she went to straighten her bedclothes. “I can explain, I think. You wanted me to hate you, and it worked.”

 

“It did?” There was weakness in his voice, damn it, and he wished he’d known this conversation was coming. He would have prepared himself – maybe had a drink or put on another layer of armor. He was _not_ prepared for this.

“Yes. No. Maybe? I figured it out, if that’s what you mean.” She’d moved to her wardrobe, idly sorting through the clothing that hung inside. “Alistair helped with that. You should know that I told him about everything.”

“Everything?” Cullen wasn’t surprised by the flash of worry he felt, but he was surprised by the shot of jealousy mixed in. He didn’t like the idea of Ali confiding in another man, especially one she thought was attractive. Willfully, he ignored the jealousy. He’d never had any right to that, and certainly didn’t now. “What did he say?”

Ali huffed and turned to him, snatching a dress seemingly at random. “He pointed out that what you said wasn’t really an insult, it just sounded like it was. How long did it take you to come up with your lines?”

The way she said it made a smile flirt at the corner of his mouth. “A while. Most of the ride back. I was glad when you ran out to the stable because I was starting to run out of material.”

“Ah.” She cocked her head and evaluated him serenely. “Well, what you had was very effective. I especially liked how you made fun of my _girlish feelings_.”

Cullen wanted to crumble at her feet and tear his hair out, but he caught just a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Was she teasing him? Slowly, he let himself smile up at her, the halfcocked grin that only she could elicit from him. “Well, you were a girl once, so you must remember how it felt.”

“Tricky. And the part about your feelings not reflecting mine?”

“Um.” He looked away, unable to face her without blushing. “They aren’t. My feelings are my own, and aren’t tied to yours. They are not dependent on how you feel.”

Ali gasped, just the tiniest intake of hitched breath. A moment later, she spoke, still sounding cool and collected. “Unconditional, you mean.”  
“Yes.” The word was a whisper, and he barely got it out past the lump in his throat. He pressed his eyes closed and counted backwards from ten, trying to collect himself. When he hit _one_ , he thought about starting over again, but forced himself to straighten and face her. “For what it is worth, I am sorry. Truly. There were reasons that I thought I had to… but I was wrong, and you have my full contrition.”

“You weren’t wrong.” Ali paused in her rummaging for just a second, glancing over her shoulder with a shrug. “You shouldn’t have done it that way, and I’m still fair vexed with you for that, but you weren’t wrong. We’d always known it couldn’t go too far, and we went there anyway.”

It was a strange feeling – having your heart both mend and break simultaneously. Cullen wanted to shout for joy that she understood why he’d done it, but he also wanted to scream at her that she wasn’t supposed to _agree_ with him! She was supposed to find a way to make it right, to put them together. Some of his warring emotions must have slipped out past his calm façade because Ali dropped the clothes she held and walked over to sit next to him.

“Cullen, I had a lot of time to think over the last few weeks, and I spent a lot of time railing and cursing all the things that had ever kept us apart. It isn’t right, it isn’t fair, it isn’t what we deserve. But truly? You know as well as I do that we _can’t_ , we never should have.”

He nodded, trying to calm himself. “Especially not now.”

“Not ever.” She corrected gently, and he was amazed at how she seemed to have worked the situation out so cleanly. “We never had a chance, you and I. We met because someone blew up the world, and we have to fix it. It would be easy to say things should have been different, but when would that have been? When you were thirteen and I was eleven? That’s the last time we were able to make choices for ourselves.”

A faint memory of what he’d thought of girls at thirteen surfaced, and a bubble of mirth floated along with it. “Good point. And after that, we were…”

“A Mage and a Templar. How many jokes start out that way?” Although her words were light, a shadow of grief crossed her pretty face. “I thought of it you know. In Denerim, after Alistair made me face what was going on. There was a moment in the what-might-have-beens where I wished I had gone to the Ferelden circle instead of Ostwick. If I’d met you when you were seventeen, I wouldn’t have been able to help myself.”

Another memory floated up, this one of Solana giving him a burning glance over her shoulder when she’d woken from her Harrowing. She’d been beautiful, and very sweet, but there was no true emotion there. In his mind, Cullen substituted Ali’s face over Solana’s and his heart clenched. What would he have been willing to do for her to keep her safe from the risks of the ritual? A slow creeping horror dawned in his gut when he realized how deep the answer to the question would run.

 

He opened his eyes and looked straight at Ali, and she nodded at the answer she saw in his face. But she wasn’t done yet.

“I thought about that a lot, and it made me think of other things.” She moved from the couch, kneeling in front of him with her hands on her knees, like a dutiful sister at prayer.“There are a lot of things from my Circle that I’ve never told you. A Mage and a Templar fell in love when I was just a wee thing, maybe fourteen? I don’t remember his name, but she was assigned to my ward. Ser Kendra, she was. We all knew that they were in love, and we all kept it a secret, even us littles.”

“What happened?” This was a story he didn’t want to hear – nothing good could have come from a liaison like that, as he well knew from seeing it firsthand himself.

“What do you think? She got in a family way, and our knight-commander couldn’t ignore it anymore. They were both arrested, and the night she gave birth -” Ali swallowed hard and wiped her eyes, clearing the memory. “I was there. She kept purging the healer’s spells, so they had to do it with no magic. My teachers knew that I’d seen babies born before, thought I’d keep a level head. I held her head and sponged her brow, trying to keep her calm. She kept screaming out for Devon - that was his name, Devon - and they finally brought him up to her. When he saw her, he tried to fix it, started to cast a spell. One of the other Templars thought he was calling a demon and hauled him away.”

“Was he?” Cullen’s voice seemed to come from somewhere outside himself and he felt curiously faint.

She shrugged. “I’ve no idea. It doesn’t matter either way though. A few minutes later she died in a bed of blood. No one told him before they put the brand on him - his last true thought was a prayer for the safety of his lover.”

“And the baby?”

“Lived. But… did you know that a Templar’s baby is born addicted to lyrium?” She shook her head angrily and pressed her lips together. “I asked later what happened to the babe, and no one could tell me.”

“Maker, Ali, I…” Cullen didn’t have words for her, but he reached for her shoulder, only to have her shy away.

“That’s not the point, Cullen. A few months after that, I lost my virginity and I realized… that was it for me. That was all I could ever want, just stolen moments in a stable, maybe an orgasm if I was lucky. So a few days later…”

“Yes?”

“You know that not all magic with blood is blood magic right? Like healers deal with people’s blood all the time and there are no demons at all?” She flicked her eyes over, nervous about this next part.

“Yes, why? What happened?”

“When my courses came, I stopped them. We called it _darkening the moon_ at Ostwick, but Dorian didn’t recognize the phrase. Maybe its only women who talk about it though.”

It took a second for that to land, but when it did, it pressed him backwards into the pillows. Ali had done what? His instinctive response was born of years of Templar training that told him mages weren’t to be trusted, that what she had done _was_ blood magic. Reason presented a second later – such a spell isn’t too far off from what healers do. He had no idea such a thing was even possible, but he was grateful for that. If Meredith had known of such a ritual, she would have forced it on all the mages in the Kirkwall Circle, so it was good that this remained a secret shared between Circle women.

The thought made him want to cry – Maker, no wonder she had never told him. “You can’t think that I would…”

“No. But I made that decision when I was fifteen years old Cullen. I looked at my life ahead and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I could never have a family of my own, so I convinced myself that I didn’t even want one. What kind of world hands that choice to woman barely out of her girlhood? How can that be what the Maker wants for us all?” Now she faced him and tears glimmered in her eyes. Her lips were white, and she looked wary, like she feared his reaction.

Cullen thought desperately for a minute, but there was no easy answer. Surprisingly, his overwhelming emotion was grief – grief that this remarkable woman would never get to see a green-eyed babe peeking up from her arms. But that wasn’t her point, and he knew it. “It wasn’t a choice, Ali. You did what you had to do, and the Maker should want better for his children.”

Her smile of relief was nearly blinding, and he was grateful that he’d understood her directly. She reached out tentatively to grip his littlest finger, making him wish he wasn’t wearing gloves. “Cullen, I wish we could have had a chance. But… this isn’t about us. This is about the whole world, about every child and every adult looking for their place. The world is wounded and the land is bleeding, and I have to try to make it right. Duty comes before love and sorrow. Anything else would be..."

 

"Selfish." He finished, feeling the weight of that word heavy on his heart. That was it then, that was the heart of the matter.

Ali released his hand and pressed her hands over her eyes. “Terrible, isn’t it. Hand chosen by Andraste and here I am getting teary eyed about a boy.”

“You weren’t chosen.” The words popped out of his mouth almost without thought, but he didn’t want to see her draw back into her false shell just yet.

“What?”

“You weren’t chosen by Andraste.” He raised a hand to her cheek, brushing it gently with the back of his knuckles. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Her brow creased with confusion and hurt as she tipped back onto her heels. "What? You don't think I'm the Herald?"

“I don’t think that, sweetheart, I know you are. But you weren’t chosen from all the people of Thedas at random. You said it yourself, after you remembered what happened. At the Conclave, everyone knew something was wrong and tried to leave - except for you. You turned back, you ran back into the fire. A temple full of holy leaders, and you were the only one, the only one who went back. Just a scared little Mage, looking for her brothers. But you went back to try to help without fear for yourself.”

“I was afraid.” Ali blinked at him, but her words were just a blind to make him stop talking, and he ignored them. Maker bless this woman, so afraid of the praise she deserved.

Cullen smirked and reached for her hand, pulling her closer. “That doesn’t matter, you still went back. That wasn't the high hand of fate, it's just you making the hard call, the right call. You weren’t chosen, you chose yourself. Leliana was right Herald - you bring us grace.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, drawing her shoulders in like she wanted to hide. That wasn't his intention, and he acted without thinking, drawing her up and into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and scored it - this would be the last time he got to hold her so, and he wanted to soak her in. She was trembling, so he held her close and gripped her tight, trying to keep her warm. “We aren’t selfish, and you said it yourself, love. Duty comes before love or sorrow.”

"I have to finish this. I wish it were different. I wish I could promise that we would have an after, but…”Her voice was thick and muffled. "I'll make the world right again, no matter the cost."

Cullen buried his face in the mass of her hair, muffling himself as well. "You know the cost Magelet. We both do. But you're right. Come what may, you have my faith. And my sword. And whatever else you need.”

Ali nodded against his chest. “I need you to be my Commander. We haven’t really been friends in a long time, but once we leave this room, that’s what I need again.”

Cullen swallowed hard and tightened his arms just a bit, reassuring her without speaking. “And my orders?”

Now she pulled back and looked at him steadily. “Find him." Her eyes still glittered, but it wasn't tears in them now. "Find me Samson, and I'll bring him to you. Like a dog with a bone."

*****

The sat like that for only a few minutes more, before something unspoken crossed between them, and Ali knew their time was up. She untangled herself from him and stood, crossing her arms around her self-consciously. He’d taken it better than she’d hoped, and she truly felt like they’d reached mutual understanding and forgiveness.

_Not that there’s much comfort in that._

Cullen straightened his coat and ran a hand through his hair, getting every strand in place. He gritted his teeth and set his jaw, then looked at her straight on. “Is there anything else you need, my lady?”

The words hung between them, and Ali wondered if sleeping for another day and a half would make things better. She wanted to make a joke to diffuse the tension, go for the old line of _not your lady_ , but she managed to refrain. “No Commander. I’ll be down presently.”

His brow furrowed at her response, but he seemed to understand. He sketched a brief bow and headed for the exit, stopping two paces away. He took a deep breath and spoke, not turning around. “This is the worst, you know?”

Ali clutched at her shirt, fisting her hands to keep from reaching out towards him. They _had_ to get past this, it was the only way. Though it rent at her heart to do it, she reached for a joking tone. “Don’t worry Commander. Lots of pretty girls out there for you to meet.”

The muscles in his neck stiffened, then relaxed when he caught her meaning. Now he did look back over his shoulder with a wry smile. “Good point. Lots of pretty boys for you to kiss.”

She nodded, forcing a smile that wrinkled her nose. He nodded back and left, his boots sending echoes down the stairs.

_Five minutes. You get five minutes._

She crumpled to the ground when the door slammed below, pressing her face into her palms and letting silent sobs streak out into her fingers. She thought of all the things he’d meant to her, all the dreams she’d barely even dared to have. Slowly, lovingly, she imagined writing them all down on bits of paper and folding them up, tossing them into a fire and watching the ashes float away.

Ali didn’t quite make her five minute deadline, but there were things to do so she didn’t wallow very long. When she pushed up off the floor, her muscles ached in protest, but she deemed herself recovered from her recent trials and ready for the next phase of her plan. At her vanity, she eyed herself in the mirror. The woman looking back at her was younger than she felt, but she didn’t look like the girl who’d lived in the Circle. This woman was harder, stronger, almost prepared.

Almost, but not quite. The days ahead would be long, but it had to be done. All of the people she’d gathered, warriors and rogues and mages, they all had something to teach her and she would learn it well. She would keep her heart out of it, let her wishes float away on the wind while she honed herself into the weapon that Andraste and Thedas needed.

Cullen hadn’t lied – her hair was curly, and all a mess around her head where it fell in great knotted billows. Ali looked at herself levelly, trying to memorize how she looked right this instance, while remembering the way his hands had felt when he braided it by the fire and told her he loved her. At last, she reached for her dagger and lifted it up. With a few quick slices, she cut away the heavy strands, shearing away the years of growth that marked her as a woman of leisure. The shorter hair did nothing to hide her face, or her grief, but that was okay. The important thing was that it was practical, the right choice for a fighter.

And it was time to fight. Time to fight, time to be brave, time to be strong, time to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to thesmonster for the phrase "duty above love or sorrow." I feel like it really sums up where these two are right now. 
> 
> Also, part of this came from wondering how 'grinding' would come out in the real world. I started the DLC and realized I wasn't leveled up enough for it, so I ran around killing random shit for an hour or so. I thought it would be neat to address that in the story.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm sorry this took so long to post, but its an extra super long one!
> 
> If this were a movie, it would be the training montage with bitchin' guitar solos playing in the background. So if you can imagine them as you go, all for the better.

Despite all her planning, the rest of the day was a bit of a shitshow. Once Ali had gotten herself groomed and dressed and out the door, she’d missed her chance to see all her friends at breakfast. Instead, Leliana yanked her into the War Room and presented her with a giant stack of reports to look through. Halfway through the pile, Josephine stumbled in, bright eyed and red cheeked with joy from her new romance. She immediately threw herself on Ali in a flurry of gratitude, and all three women found themselves weepy around the table as they reaffirmed their bonds of friendship.

It wasn’t easy, but Ali held it together as she explained to them what had happened with Cullen. Her impulse was to keep it to herself, but she pushed past it. She needed her friends to trust her, and that meant she had to trust them. When she got to the part about letting him walk out of her room without going after him, Josie leaned in close and wrapped her arms around Ali’s waist. It wasn’t the same as what she had lost, but Ali leaned back against her nonetheless, appreciating the gesture of support.

Just then, Cullen walked in, looking just as well-groomed and handsome as he always did. Ali tried not to notice the way his eyes flicked to where Josie hugged her just as his fingers clenched quickly. Luckily, she wasn’t the only one to catch the gesture. In a flash, Leliana swung around the war table and enfolded Cullen into her arms, pressing herself against his breastplate.

Josie spoke, low and soft. “We are sorry for you both.”

Leliana tipped back to look Cullen in the face. “We understand. You don’t have to pretend here.”

Cullen glanced up at Ali before looking back down at the redhead. He draped an arm around her shoulders and dropped a light kiss on her hood. “Yes we do. But thank you. To work then?”

Ali squeezed Josephine’s arm and disengaged, stepping to her usual location and starting the meeting in the usual way. She was utterly determined to proceed as if this was a typical day – there was too much work to do to waste any more time wallowing.

“Thank you all for your reports. I’ve started to review them, and there are several things that we can move on right now. Leliana, I will be happy to accompany you to Valence. Would day after tomorrow be sufficient?”

Leliana adjusted right into the flow of the meeting without a hiccup. “Of course, Inquisitor. I will determine if there are any other stops we should make on the way.”

“Excellent. Josephine, I’m concerned about our supply of some of the finer materials. It looks like Cullen’s dinners in Val Royeaux brought us some new recruits that we’ll need to arm up, but we’ll need a regular supply of silverite. Can you start leaning on our contacts?”

“Yes of course.” Josephine looked a little less comfortable with the sudden shift back to business, but she gamely made a note on her board. “Will you want to be present at these meetings?”

“Not unless I have to.” Ali picked up one of Cullen’s markers and turned it over in her hand, considering her options. She really wanted to give this task to him, but it was for selfish reasons, and she was determined not to give in. “I’ll be busy with training.”

“Training?” Across the table, his eyes snapped to hers. “Training for what?”

“Training for battle.” Determined, Ali put the marker back down on the side of the table, out of active use. “I’ve seen my limits, and I think I can push them out further. It’s time for me to focus in on my skills – really learn all that I can from everyone here. Besides, I have this shiny new knight that I need to put to use, and I think he’s well suited to whipping me into shape.”

The meaning was clear – she needed a trainer, and she wasn’t choosing Cullen. The only sign of disappointment he gave was the way he clenched at his sword, but he nodded his approval. “Good choice. He knows your fighting style better than anyone else.”

Gratitude bloomed in Ali’s stomach. This situation was very nearly untenable, but he was going to support her choices. Somehow, that made it both better and worse – she really wasn’t going to lose Cullen as her friend, but every time he proved what a good man he was, it just made her want him more.

Josie cleared her throat and picked up another report. “It’s good that’s settled. As for this new Order you’ve created, I have drafted a statement that I think we should review…”

*****

By the time Ali returned from Orlais with a much-gentled Leliana, Blackwall had a whole training regimen worked up, and all of Skyhold was prepared. Archery, magic, riding and hand-to-hand combat would all be covered, with appropriate amounts of time allotted for Inquisition business.

Ali reviewed the schedule with approval. This was it – this was what she needed to be able to save the damn world. And she had to really – if she didn’t, the cost would have been too damn high. The first order of business for the day was a session with Blackwall and his shield. She shouldered her staff and pushed away thoughts of love, determined to make the most of the day.

*****

Cullen surveyed his recruits, trying to ignore the sounds from behind him. Today was an archery day – Sera and Leliana were with the Inquisitor, trying to teach her how to use a bow. He gave the orders for the next set of practice steps and nodded to his lieutenant, indicating that she should oversee training for a moment.

Under pretense of going for his waterskin, he looked across the courtyard to where they’d set the targets. Ali had the bow drawn back, and even from this distance, he could see that she didn’t have her weight balanced correctly. Sure enough, when she let go of the arrow, the bowstring twanged forward and smacked her on the thumb.

Sera erupted into laughter, and Leliana bent to get the bow, shaking her head and saying something to Ali. Cullen shook his own head and turned back to his own training. He wanted to go over there – not that he was a master at the bow, but still. He wanted to be by her side, to help her improve, to wrap his hands over hers and show her the correct way to hold…

No. That was a long slide down a slippery slope into selfishness, and they were better than that.

*****

Ali burst through the door to Cullen’s office just past dawn. She was streaked in sweat, and her muscles were starting to register protests at the pace she’d been setting.

When the door crashed open, Cullen looked up from his armor stand where he’d been buffing a mark off his breastplate. Once upon a time his eyes would have lit up at the sight of her, but that was a different time. Now, on this morning, all he did was press his lips together and shake his head slightly. This was the new normal, and they were all starting to adjust.

“Starting a little early today, are we?” His voice was still scratchy from sleep, and while Ali was glad he’d rested at all, she was terribly jealous that his day had just started and hers had been going for nearly an hour.

She paused in the middle of his office and bent over, resting her hands on knees and feeling the stretch down her thighs. “I really should have cut the man’s head off. Three laps today already and who knows how many more before I can eat.”

The complaint was mostly for forms sake, but she still hoped for sympathy from Cullen. If she could get him involved in a conversation, it meant more seconds would pass before she had to start running again, and it would be seconds spent in his company, which was always worthwhile. But no, he didn’t look sympathetic, in fact, he was reaching for a belt on his desk…

_Maker you listen to me! That better not be what I think it is!_

Ali’s prayers were for naught. With a wry smile, Cullen lifted the weighted harness off his desk and draped it around her shoulders. “Sorry, my lady, but Blackwall gave orders. Wear this for two more laps, and you’ll get a break.”

Stifling a whimper, Ali stood and shrugged her shoulders, letting the weight settle evenly. This had seemed like such a good plan when she wasn’t in the thick of it, but she was suffering serious regrets now. It had been Solas’s idea for her to run the walls of Skyhold every morning to build up her wind and fortitude. Blackwall had agreed, but he’d decided to start mixing things up with the addition of more weight for her to haul around. This was the heaviest harness yet, at least a stone of extra weight hung around her already exhausted muscles. It wouldn’t have been so bad if this was all she had to do all day, but Ali knew she was due to work with Bull and the Chargers later, which would no doubt leave her aching and bruised.

Something must have shown on her face since Cullen’s eyes softened slightly. “Hop to it, Herald. The sooner you start, the sooner you eat. I’ll save you some of the good butter.”

The thought of good butter cheered her more than it should have done, and Ali sighed at what she’d reduced her own life to. Still, there was no one to blame but herself, and not for the first time, she remembered why she’d made these choices. With one final shrug, and one final wink at Cullen, she pushed off her toes and jogged out the other door, into the thin dawn sunshine.

 

*****

Cullen was cutting through the rotunda into the Great Hall when raised voices above him caught his attention. The idea of Solas yelling about _anything_ had him scurrying up the stairs to check out what was happening.

The library was empty of its usual inhabitants, but four mages were facing off around the balcony. Vivienne was brandishing a scroll and Dorian looked red-faced and angry. Ali was pointing a finger at Solas, furiously offering a rebuttal to whatever he’d just said.

“Well we don’t have it, do we?!?” Ali huffed as she reeled to face Dorian. “I don’t know what nonsense they teach you in Tevinter, but Cohen was definitely a Transcendentalist and would never have supported determinism of spirits!”

“Without the book my dear…” Vivienne tried to interject, but Dorian and Ali turned on her with equally menacing growls.

“Umm…” Cullen wasn’t sure what was happening, but four mages on the brink of blows couldn’t be safe. “Is everything quite all right?”

Ali scraped her hair back, looking vaguely annoyed when she remembered how little of it she had now. “No, everything is not all right. We’re trying to posit the ramifications of thermogenetics in a post naturalist situation and my fucking library doesn’t have any of the answers.”

This was a scholarly debate? It was a little different than he remembered from his time in the Circles, but not understanding what the mages were talking about was certainly familiar. Cullen ignored the first part of her sentence and seized on the second part. “But what about all these books?”

Dorian snorted and tossed his hands in the air. “Oh yes, all these terribly decorative books written for laypeople and hedgewitches. We don’t even have Wallace’s _Infinitius Faceticious_.”

 _That_ rang a bell in the back of Cullen’s mind – there had been a grand debate on the subject amongst the Libertarians that had spilled out into the rest of the Circle. For a few weeks, it had been all any of the mages could talk about. The Templars had finally broken down and banned the title from…

… the library at Kinloch Hold.

The thought sent cold chills down the back of his neck, but he made himself consider the thought. When the Circles had fallen, they’d all been boarded up to prevent mages from returning. Since Kinloch was in the middle of a lake, it was in less danger than most and probably was still secure.

Cullen swallowed heavily, looking across the rotunda to where Ali was arguing with Solas about the application of sulfur when forging a fire staff. Dammit, if she needed books, he’d get her books. Clutching his sword hilt for courage, Cullen turned and walked out to find Dagna and Harding – he had a mission for them.

*****

 _This is really going to hurt_ , Ali thought as she took her place in the middle of the room. Cullen and Cassandra were at opposite ends, faces hidden behind the massive Templar armor they wore. Ali tried not to let her nerves take over – these were her friends, and they wouldn’t cause her any undue hurt.

Still, they weren’t exactly being reassuring right now. This whole thing had started when Dagna had returned triumphant – Cullen’s idea having panned out into a successful raid on the old Fereldan circle. Not only had she raided the library, but they’d managed to break into the armory to bring back a horde of Templar weapons and armor. Although the books were more than welcome, the armor seemed to have given Blackwall an idea, and he’d set up this training exercise shortly thereafter.

The armor shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. Despite everything that had happened over the last few years, Ali had spent long enough in a Circle for the sight of the Templar sigil to still mean something deep down. Be silent, be still, be careful with how you move. Cause no offense, be a good girl, don’t complain. Don’t say no, don’t say please, don’t question your betters. Something about seeing her friends in the plate had her a little spooked, just a tad off her game.

It didn’t help that they were in the basement of Skyhold. There was no reason to come down here except that it was _private_. Even in her unsettled state, Ali knew there was nothing truly to fear from Cass, and that Cullen would never, _ever_ , abuse his power over her. The real worry was the wonder at why they didn’t want the rest of Skyhold to see what was about to happen. That could only mean that she was going to end up in a bad way – probably unconscious.

Ali fidgeted nervously, looking between the two armored brutes. “Is something going to happen?”

Cullen almost spoke, but shut his mouth and nodded to Cassandra. In a bored voice, she said, “Make us stop, mage.”

There wasn’t time to ask any questions before the attack started. Neither of them moved, but Ali felt the weight immediately, first a Silence from Cullen’s side before a Purge came from Cassandra. The combination of them pulled the whole world up in Ali’s view, and a shocky second later she realized she must have dropped to her knees.

A second after that, the pain started.

It was agony, ripping down her nerves and opening a deep dark pit in her belly that seemed to suck all her selfhood down into it. She’d felt both of these techniques before, but never at the same time. The combination of them was exponentially bigger than anything she’d ever experienced before, the worst thing that’s ever happened.

_Not worse than the anchor at first._

That thought trickled in around the pain, providing a tiny bit of solace. From far away, Ali heard Cullen say again, “Make us stop Mage.”

Ali forced her head up, trying to focus on the figure in front of her. Tall shiny silver with sword in hand, leaning over menacingly. It felt so much like her memories of her Harrowing that she tried to retreat, sure she was to be killed for being a blood mage. But there was no retreat possible – she just flopped to the side and landed on her arm, the pain almost unnoticed through the fire in the marrow of her bones.

A woman said, _This is torture, we have to stop._

A man said, _She did it in the temple, I believe she can do it again._

The temple? Ali remembered how she flared her magic over a Purge to save Cullen, which made her realize it was Cullen who believed in her now. _Well shit_. If he thought she could do it, she really had to try. She had given him up for this, after all. The least she could do was try to get out from under their power, to prove that she…

Ali couldn’t exactly remember what she was trying to prove, but it didn’t really matter anyway. With a grunt of effort she rolled off her aching arm and let her mind expand, feeling out the dual pressures that spiked across her body and shredded her mana.

They felt different, almost like spells. She tried to visualize them, see the way they hovered over her. The Silence was huge, covering her whole body, but the Purge was restricted to an area just over her torso.

All those mediation lessons with Vivienne payed off. Without trying to, Ali could see the Purge as a concrete object, one with a tiny seam around it. She imagined growing claws, forcing them into the seam and prying the Purge apart, letting her mana trickle out and push it open even more.

It felt like she had been fighting for hours, but only seconds had really gone by. Once the Purge was gone, the Silence felt like an easy challenge. Ali summoned her will, pulling it in around herself and shielding her mana from the grasping vines of quiet that tried to smother it. As soon as she had enough, she threw it out in a wild spell, letting it burst through her skin in something close to an explosion.

Two heavy thumps followed by two curses told her that she’d managed to throw Cass and Cullen into walls. Ali had to assume they were okay, because her body wasn’t exactly obeying her commands to stand up.

She heard footsteps coming towards her and reflected that she probably needed more practice at this before it was battlefield-ready. As Cass knelt behind her and helped her up by her shoulders, Cullen crouched by her feet, digging in his sleeve.

“Well done, Inquisitor. Very good for your first time out.” Cassandra said in as warm of a voice as she ever used. “I’m going to go fetch you some lyrium.”

Cullen barely flinched at the word as he handed Ali a handkerchief. “You’re bleeding a bit there, magelet.”

Ali dabbed under her nose, unsurprised. She was just glad she hadn’t bitten her tongue. While she cleaned up, she evaluated Cullen from under her eyelashes. They hadn’t spent much time together over the last few weeks, and this was one of the only moments they’d had alone. He looked as he always did now – stony faced and grave, focused on some point far down the road.

Sensing her gaze, he looked up and gave her a soft half smile that seemed terribly at odds with his stoic armor. “You okay?”

Ali nodded, crushing the handkerchief in her fist. “I will be. Still, that’s a good bit less fun then we used to have, eh?”

Now his smile was a full one. “True. Rather an unsatisfying way to make your knees give out, all told.”

Ali grinned back, but footsteps on the stairs foretold of Cass’s return. Cullen patted her knee and stood “That’s your lyrium. I’d better leave.”

Just as he turned, Ali piped up, wanting just one more second with him. “Go get your kit off, boy. That armor doesn’t suit you at all.”

Cullen raised a fist in salute without looking back. Ali leaned back against the cool stone floor, trying not to linger on just how good he _had_ looked in that armor.

*****

Sera burst into Cullen’s office, eyes wide and limbs flailing. “You have to come you can’t miss it!”

“What? Huh?” Cullen barely managed to get the start of a question out before Sera had her arms locked around his neck, dragging him out of his chair and onto the battlements.

In the training circle down below, Ali and Vivienne were fighting. Or dancing. Or maybe something in between. Both women were out of armor, wearing short fitted pants and breast bands tucked around their torsos. They each held a shimmering broadsword made of light, and were whirling around in a coordinated attack pattern. Every seventh step, their blades crashed together, sending up multicolored sparks that flickered up into the morning air.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Sera snuggled in next to Cullen, burrowing under his arm. “I didn’t know magic could be so pretty.”

Cullen barely heard. All he could see was the long lines of muscle that strained under Ali’s creamy skin. The hard afternoon sunlight shone off her hair as she whirled and ducked, and even from the stairs, he could see the determination etched in her face. Every one of her steps was sure and graceful, and she and Vivienne moved like mirror images of grace.

Beautiful, Sera had said. She was right. Ali was the most beautiful thing Cullen had ever seen.

*****

Ali was playing hide and go seek with Cole when the courtier cornered her. The game had been going well, she’d managed to break Cole’s stealth twice already. She was going for a third, and thought she’d seen a flicker in the air around the kitchen, but it was a bust. She’d just come out into the courtyard when a shortish, well-dressed Orlesian fell into step beside her.

“Such ravishing beauty is so terribly unexpected in such a remote environment. And if I may be so bold, such a ravishing sight is wasted on a kitchen maid.”

Surprised, Ali glanced down. She was wearing a dress today, and had rucked it up into her belt to free her legs for chasing after Cole. With her Anchor covered by a glove and her hair tucked under a kerchief, she supposed that she did look rather like a kitchen maid.

She opened her mouth to correct the man just before he slid a hand around her back. Without pausing, he slipped it down to her bum and grabbed a generous handful, hitching him into her side. “I am a very important man, my dear. Perhaps you’d be interested in a bit of a promotion?” He turned to press his groin against her leg, leaving absolutely no question as to what he was referring to.

Ali was rendered practically speechless. It wasn’t just that he’d taken her for a loose woman – there were certainly whores throughout Skyhold, and she offered no judgement to any woman who made a living such a way. No, the offense came from the idea that this man, this random, insignificant courtier thought he could walk into _her_ fortress, the home of the Inquisition and molest random women crossing the courtyard.

It would have been easy to reveal herself, to leave him pleading for mercy before her throne. But all that would do would be to make him verify the woman’s identity before he approached the next one. Instead, Ali clasped his wrist and dug her nails in, just the way her Mama had taught her many years ago. “Please let go of me, serrah.”

“Now see here, chickadee…” The man didn’t like being rebuffed, and he tightened his hold even harder. That was all he got out before he was yanked backwards by the back of his collar, going sprawling across the yard.

Cullen stood there, eyes blazing and shoulders up, looming as large as he ever did. He glanced back towards Ali, waiting for a cue. She nodded at him and flicked her hand, indicating he could proceed as he wished.

Two steps took him towards the man, and it was the work of a moment to haul him up by his throat. “The lady asked you to let her go.”

The man looked affronted. “What is the meaning of this? Don’t you know who I am? I am here by personal invitation from the Inquisitor!”

Ali forced down a giggle. He had to be part of the mining delegation that Josie had invited – a group of low ranking Orlesians who were begging for a chance to bid on a contract for raw materials. The man was of no importance whatsoever – not that it mattered.

Cullen growled low in his chest and lifted the man off his toes. “Then I will report your behavior to the Inquisitor, and she can judge you as she sees fit.”

He goggled. “All this for that chit? If she is your lady, man, I apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

Abruptly, Cullen set the man back down. “She isn’t my lady. She is her own.”

He sounded fine, but Ali heard what that cost him to say, and suddenly this little scene wasn’t fun anymore. She still didn’t want to reveal herself, so she just curtsied in Cullen’s direction. “My thanks, serrah. Doesn’t the Inquisitor give such men to The Iron Bull?”

The man looked positively green at the mention of the legendary Quanari, but one look at Cullen’s face had him scampering towards the portcullis. Cullen closed his eyes and breathed in and out heavily before looking towards Ali.

She wanted to reassure him that he’d done well, but the look on his face left her dry mouthed and sad. Everything in her told her to reach for him, but there was nothing to be said. Instead, she tipped her head and turned around, leaving to find Cole.

*****

Cullen was trying to be more sociable, so he made it a point to go to the tavern every few nights. He never drank much, but he nursed a beer while chatting with the people who gathered after a long day of work.

Tonight, he was surprised to see Ali in a corner with Bull and Blackwall, steadily making her way through a long line of tiny shot glasses. When he made a move towards her, Bull motioned him back.

He lingered in a corner, keeping an eye on the tableau as Ali got drunker and drunker. When at last the trio stood and started to make their way outside, he followed at a safe distance.

Bull was waiting for him just outside the door and grabbed his arm as he exited. “Don’t get your smalls bunched Commander. The Boss is fine – this is just another bit of training that Thom cooked up.”

“Training?” Cullen looked over to where Ali was staggering on her feet, fists bunched up in front of her. “Why is she so drunk?”

“Closest we can get to running her down. We can’t keep her up for days again, but she needs to know how to fight when she’s all wrung out.”

That made a weird kind of sense, in a slightly twisted way. Cullen hung back, watching how Blackwall jabbed in around Ali’s defenses, tapping her lightly on her cheeks and neck. She was slow, and clearly off-balance, but the weeks of training were paying off. She finally got her fists up in the right position and starting weaving away from the hits. Her eyes narrowed and she punched out quickly, her fist connecting solidly with Blackwall’s nose.

“Attagirl!” Bull crowed as he dug a flask from his belt. “That deserves another shot!”

Ali stumbled over to them and snatched the flask from his hands. “Damn straight. ‘m a legend, y’know.” She managed to get the liquor open and took a long drink, only spilling a little bit. When she noticed Cullen standing there, her eyes narrowed a little bit and she thrust the flask back. “Why’d ye bring him?”

Bull shrugged. “He was in the tavern. Decided to watch the show. Want to take a go at me?”

Ali shook her head, the action making her gag a little. “Nope! Wanna hit him.” Without any warning, her fists came up and she popped one out at Cullen. Her aim was off though, and she missed him by at least three inches.

He stepped back to a safe distance. “Inquisitor, I don’t think this is such a great idea…”

“It’s a perfect idea,” she slurred, lining up for another go. “I’ve been wanting to hit you for _ages_.”

Bull, coward that he was, retreated over to where Blackwall had his head tipped back to staunch the blood dripping from his nose. “If you’re good with the Boss, I’ll just pop this one over to the healer’s tent and be back ‘fore you can spit.”

It occurred to Cullen that all three of them might be more than a little bit drunk, and it might be better if he took care of getting Ali calmed down. He nodded at Bull, never taking his eyes of Ali’s glassy-eyed face. She was still weaving in front of him, trying to use her fists to bait him into a fight.

Resigned, Cullen put his palms out and let her knock into them a few times. In spite of her intoxication, she was still managing to get some muscle behind each hit, and he was impressed with how far she’d come.

Before too long, her shoulders started to sag, and she dropped her arms. “Don’t really wanna hit you, y’know,” she muttered under her breath.

“You don’t?” Cullen wasn’t sure just what was happening, but he was interested to find out. “Why not?”

She shrugged, then shrugged again before tipping forward into his chest. “No fun. I know you’ll win.”

“Right.” Of course that was all it was. He got an arm around her waist and pulled her arm over his shoulders. It would take longer to get her to her room this way, but it was better than carrying her in front of everyone in Skyhold.

Together, they staggered towards the doors. Ali seemed lost in her own world, and Cullen was trying very hard not to notice how under the stench of beer and liquor, Ali still smelled like the best cookie he’d ever eaten.

When they reached the door to her chambers, she pulled her arm away from his shoulders and swung around in front of him. She was leaning against the door, but she hooked her fingers into his breastplate and pulled him in until his face was just inches from hers. “Don’t really want to hit you.”

He had to smile at the intensity in her voice and he carefully brushed a bit of hair off her forehead. “I know, magelet. You know I’ll win.”

“No!” She said emphatically. “Don’t wanna hit you because I wanna kiss you.”

That wasn’t new information, but it still made his blood heat up and rush in his ears. Cullen felt like the whole world had narrowed to the face in front of him. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed prettily, lips open a fraction as she peered up at him. She looked like every good dream he’d ever had, every fantasy come to life and presented to him on a platter.

For one brief moment, Cullen wondered if he’d had enough to drink to offer plausible deniability, but that thought was quickly squelched away by thoughts of just how much he loved her, and just how much any action would be a betrayal of that love.

With as much gentleness as he had in him, he tucked her back under his shoulder and helped her stagger into Josephine’s office to have the Ambassador put her to bed.

*****

Ali stumbled down the stairs, only a little hungover after her bout of drunken boxing the night before. She remembered what she’d said to Cullen, but also remembered the way he’d looked at her with such a heartbreaking mixture of want and despair. With any luck, he would be equally on board with pretending it never happened.

Her advisors were already in the War Room when she arrived. All three looked graver than usual, and she immediately put away her personal thoughts to focus on the professional. “Is there news?”

Josephine passed a report to Ali, and Cullen looked at her with something like finality in his eyes. Leliana was the one who finally spoke. “We have found him, Inquisitor. In a place called the Arbor Wilds."

 

 


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry as always for the long delay. I wish I could make this more of a priority, but my spare time is just nonexistant these days. I promise this story will be fully posted one day, but today is not that day.

One of the very best things about being the Inquisitor was the constant travel to new and interesting places – and Ali thought the Arbor Wilds might be the best yet.

True, the vast deserts of the Hissing Wastes had a calming effect on her psyche, and the Wounded Coast put her in a gothicly romantic mood. Once the rainy season had ended in Crestwood, it had turned into perfectly idyllic farmland country that made her want to frolic and sing. The Emerald Graves had been a shining example of a forest primeval, and Redcliffe the very model of a pristine village.

None of them touched the sheer beauty of the jungles of the Arbor Wilds – the bright colors, the lush vegetation, and the smell of clean water suspended in the air. As Ali rode into the jungle at the vanguard of her army, she couldn’t stop herself from flicking her eyes back and forth, unwilling to miss any wonders this land had to offer.

But about a mile from where they planned to set a camp, she saw the fragments of an old elven statue lying shattered on the ground. It had maybe been a wolf once, but the subject didn’t matter. The sight of it stiffened her back and narrowed her eyes – this wasn’t a pleasure trip. In her excitement at the scenery, she’d almost forgotten their purpose here.

Her advisors were cycling out next to her, and Cullen was there now. He must have seen something in the way she moved, because he cocked a questioning eyebrow in her direction. Ali shook her head minutely – she wasn’t about to share these thoughts with him, not now.

Because this was one of the very worst things about being the Inquisitor. The constant travel to new and interesting places – but all so she could find and murder her enemies. Ali kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring everything but the road under their feet. She was here to kill, and no beautiful jungle could change that.

*****

Cullen scratched beneath the collar of his undertunic, trying to get some relief from the stickiness that had been plaguing him ever since they’d stepped foot into this Maker-forsaken-nugpit of a jungle. The day had been too humid by half and he’d had the vague sensation of being slow roasted in his armor on the ride in. Even Kirkwall in the dead of summer had a stinking breeze that blew in from the sea to cut some of the mugginess. He’d been sweltering since midday, and had desperately been looking forward to the sunset.

But that brought no relief either. As soon as dusk fell, the bugs came out. And, oh, what horrible little buggers they were – tiny little buzzing nits that swarmed at his face and took tiny bits of flesh out of the exposed skin around his armor. The scouts built smoky fires around the camp, using some sort of pungent wood to drive the nibblers off, but that only helped if you stayed close to the flames. It was a devil’s bargain – get rid of the insects, but get even hotter from the fire and smoke.

He’d been willing to make the trade off, at least at first. They’d finally arrived at their base camp in the Wilds, and there was plenty to do to prepare for the next day’s battle. He’d had orders to give and tactics to plan, although his lieutenants had taken care of the worst of it already. The only change he made was to change his placement up to the front lines. His own advisors had cautioned against it, but he wouldn’t be swayed. At Adamant, he’d stayed behind and everything had nearly been lost. This time, he would put himself in the thick of things – if things went tits up, he wanted to be there.

They’d finally finished hashing out plans when dinner was served. It was a hearty stew, rich with wine and meat and the last thing Cullen wanted to eat on a sweltering night like this. He was trying to force down a few bites of it when he saw Ali step away from the fire and melt back into the shadows of the jungle.

It wasn’t that he didn’t think she was safe out there on her own – Maker knew that she was more than capable of handling herself. And it wasn’t like she’d given any sign that she wanted him to follow – even if they’d still been rummaging, they wouldn’t have risked it at a time like this. No, what really made Cullen perk up and take notice was the stiffening of her jaw and the ghost of a furrow across her brow before she turned away from the fire.

He knew that expression. It was how she’d looked when she’d gone to face Corypheus at Haven, and again when they’d made her Inquisitor at Skyhold. It was her have-to-do-this look that meant she was terribly frightened, and utterly unwilling to show weakness to her followers.

Whatever had transpired between them personally didn’t matter. There was no way that Cullen would leave her to feel alone on the night before this battle. As soon as an opportunity presented itself, Cullen handed his bowl to Sera and stepped away from the circle of people to find his Inquisitor.

*****

Carefully, Ali flicked her finger and sent a spit of flame at the candle. Once the wick caught, she dripped some wax on the altar and settled the candle down securely. The light flickered up and illuminated the rough features of Andraste.

Ali stared at the altar, still feeling slow and dumb. Seeing the broken statue on the road had just been the start of the crawling feeling of unease this day had brought her, and she’d been nearly coming out of her skin by the time she’d been able to slip away. She didn’t plan where she was going, but her feet had brought her here, to the makeshift Chantry tent that Leliana’s scouts had set up.

It wasn’t just the battle that unnerved her now. There was something simmering in the air tonight, a susurrus of the air that made her want to burrow under her bedclothes and never come out. Morrigan and Solas had given her some dire portents about this area of the Frostbacks, and she wondered how much of it was true history.

Tomorrow she would face Samson, if she had any luck at all. She wanted a reckoning for personal reasons of course – his trap for Cullen had been cold-blooded as a snake – but there were larger issues at play here. Although she had foiled Corypheus again and again, she never could shake the bone deep terror he had instilled in her at Haven. Despite all that she had accomplished, she still didn’t think she would be able to measure up when all the chips were down.

So the Chantry tent seemed like a good idea – perhaps she could seek solace from powers greater than herself. But now that she was here, with the candle lit, she was absolutely frozen.

Normally, prayers came easily to her. There was a tiny altar in her room at Skyhold, carefully crafted and decorated with softly scented candles. Though he’d never admitted it, Ali knew Cullen was the one who had built it for her, and she guessed Josie was the one who had selected the scents. Almost every day she was in residence, she carved out a few minutes to light a candle and say some words, asking for guidance and strength. This little tent was a far cry from what she was used to, but it didn’t matter. The Maker heard prayers from everywhere, and a candle was a candle.

Normally she would have said a section of the Chant of Light and been done with it, but tonight, she couldn’t bring the words forward. The Chant was too big, there was too much of it. For a woman drowning under the weight of fear and expectations, trying to find the right verse was impossible.

She licked her lips, running her teeth across the lower one as if it would shake her thoughts loose. She needed this release, but there were no words to ask it.

Behind her, the flap opened and made the candle flicker. As soon as the newcomer cleared her throat, Ali knew it was Cassandra, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Andraste to turn and look at her. “What do I say?” she managed to ask, her voice crackling.

The Seeker sighed behind her, and then she was there, kneeling beside her and reaching for a candle of her own. “We ask for help.”

It seemed so simple pharsed that way, but Cass’s words just made Ali shake a little more. It was all just _too much_. As if she could read her thoughts, Cassandra didn’t do anything but slowly start to pray.

 _Maker, make me a channel of thy peace;_  
_that where there is hatred, I may bring love;_  
_that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness;_  
_that where there is discord, I may bring harmony;_  
_that where there is error, I may bring truth;_  
_that where there is doubt, I may bring faith;_  
_that where there is despair, I may bring hope;_  
_that where there are shadows, I may bring light;_  
_that where there is sadness, I may bring joy._

Without looking away, Ali reached over and took Cass’s hand, lacing their fingers together and holding tight. The words washed over her, bringing a promise of some sort of serenity.

 _Maker, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted;_  
_to understand, than to be understood;_  
_to love, than to be loved._

As Cass finished the prayer, both candles sputtered a tiny bit, and Ali pressed her eyes tight shut, trying to grasp at the peace that surrounded them. It was elusive, and the pressure still threatened at her edges. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed Cass’s hand and started the prayer again.

_Maker, make me a channel of thy peace…_

*****

Cullen walked towards the tent they were using for a makeshift Chantry, annoyed that it had taken him this long to find where Ali had gone to. Religion had always been a tough subject for them to discuss – she was outwardly very devout in her role as Herald of Andraste, but there were issues with the Chantry that every Mage carried. Still, he knew she was a true believer, and it seemed fitting that she would seek solace with the Maker.

To his surprise, hers wasn’t the only voice coming from inside the tent. Along with Ali’s clipped accent, he heard the soft tones of a Nevarran voice. The tent flap was open just a touch, and he couldn’t resist peeking through it.

Ali and Cassandra were side by side in front of the altar, interlaced hands reaching out beseechingly towards the rough statue of Andraste that someone had carved out of scrap wood. The sight of it made something tighten around Cullen’s heart. These two women had started as prisoner and jailer, but now, years and miles later, they were as close as sisters, united in a common goal.

They were both in armor, and the candlelight sent flickers of reflection off the bits of their metal. Their heads were bowed so Cullen couldn’t see their faces, but their closely shorn hair shone in the light.

He’d wanted to scream when Ali had cut all her hair off – it had been so beautiful, and had meant something special to him. But seeing her like this, her close cap of dark hair mirrored by Cassandra’s made him realize what she had truly done. She was giving herself up, one piece at a time, sacrificing her own self to save the rest of them. She was selfless, in every sense of the word.

Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, Cullen stepped away from the tent and faced out into the night. This area of camp was deserted, but the thought of something interrupting the prayers was untenable. At their heart, Templars were supposed to protect Mages. He couldn’t lift Ali’s burdens, and it wasn’t his place to go kneel by her side. But he could do this.

Drawing his sword, Cullen stationed himself by the entrance, locking his legs shoulder length apart the way he’d been taught to do years ago when he was stationed in the Gallows. As his body settled back into old habits, he clung to the feeling of being an immovable force between his Mage and the world, and listened to the voices spilling prayer after prayer.

 _Maker, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted;_  
_to understand, than to be understood;_  
_to love, than to be loved._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the St. Francis prayer, btw. It's totally lovely, and I think it works well in the Dragon Age world.


	63. Chapter 63

The Behemoth gave a massive groan as it cracked in half, which was enough warning for Ali to duck away from the falling chunks of stone. She glanced around quickly as her sword dissipated, but it looked as if Leliana and her troops had things well in hand. With a nod to her spymaster, Ali raised a fist to summon her own party back to her side. She really didn’t want to leave so soon, but it had to be done. Although she’d awoken feeling better, there was still a sense of _wrongness_ in the air, and it only got worse the deeper they went into the jungle. As much as she wanted to linger in this glade with her friend, she knew her path had to lead straight for the source of her discontent.

“Hafta be the river, Quizzie?” Sera asked as she fell into step beside Ali.

“It will be the most direct route. The ancient elves would have used it as a tradeway.” Solas was the one to answer as he came to his own place.

Ali flinched as soon as he brought up the ancient elves. Maker, what had she been thinking when she decided to take this set of people with her today? Desperate for an ally, she whipped her head around to find Blackwall, but he had sensibly set himself in a defensive position – conveniently twenty paces back from the rest of them.

Solas and Sera were each delightful on their own, but utterly horrible together. He was unable to avoid needling Sera about her elven heritage, and she wasn’t capable of respecting his beliefs. And if the two of them together weren’t bad enough, she’d had to combine them with…

“’Tis a grand leap you make there. We’ve no proof that this is anything more than a geologic occurrence caused by runoffs. Even a Chasind child would know…” Morrigan’s voice rang out with her usual strident tones, and Ali tried to tune out the lecture that was certainly coming.

Maker’s balls, the sorceress sure could talk forever – but only when it wasn’t important. When Ali had returned for Blackwall’s judgement, she’d been determined to get some answers out of Morrigan – both about her son and the Blight. She’d found Morrigan one sunny day in the garden, and tried to unlock a few of the secrets she held.

But it was to no avail. As soon as she mentioned what Alistair had implied, Morrigan laughed in her face and changed the subject – specifically, to a particularly hurtful rumor about her and Cullen. Ali had tried again, probing at the delicate issue of Kieran’s paternity, but Morrigan had upped the ante with a question about threats made to the Trevelyan clan.

Ali had given up then, and wandered off to attend to her next bit of training. If Morrigan was going to lash out so directly, then the prickly sorceress really did have secrets to guard. It wouldn’t do any good to keep pushing – all that would do would lock them down even further. No, Ali knew she just had to wait with her ears and eyes open, gathering more information before she could find out the truth.

Of course, that didn’t make it any easier to be around the swamp witch, especially with Solas and Sera in the mix. Morrigan was lecturing both of them still. Solas had started making a strange huffing sound, no doubt contemplating all the particularly factual inaccuracies of her diatribe. Sera, bless her heart, was starting to sputter out a long stream of insults, most of which were hilariously impossible from an anatomical perspective.

Ali was almost relieved when she saw the lone solider fighting off some heavily stealthed enemies. She tossed a barrier around the man and let loose with a torrent of electricity that sparked across the water and into the shadows. The damage made them drop from stealth long enough for Sera to fell one with an arrow, and Solas caught the other one with a massive shockwave, knocking him down for Blackwall to finish.

The solider stammered out a grateful bit of babble and took off up the river, no doubt to seek solace with Leliana and her archers. Ali took a deep breath and held it for the count of five – the brief fight had interrupted the argument among her party, and she was thankful for the moment of silence.

An all too brief moment. Just as she thought the word _five_ , Morrigan snorted indelicately. “Just so. Do you really think that such tactics are the way such a war will be won? Surely your precious advisors could have foreseen such casualties, especially with such a vaulted Templar at the fore?”

Dammit, apparently Morrigan had tired of arguing with the elves and now wanted to bait Ali into a fight. Curse the woman and her needling ways. She took another deep breath and tried to ignore the slight against Cullen. It was hard, since the air seemed to be pressing into her from every which way, making her itch for a confrontation of her own. But no, Ali was determined to be better than that, and would ignore whatever bits of hate Morrigan wanted to spew. Sera, apparently, had no such intentions, and rounded on the sorceress, opening her mouth to launch some new insult.

But then Blackwall, steadfast and unruffable Blackwall, finally had enough. He stepped in bodily between Sera and Morrigan and looked at Solas questioningly. “What do you think, my friend? Something feels wrong, doesn’t it? Like an illness in the air, brought up by Corypheus?”

Solas turned from the fight, scanning the trees curiously. “It may be that, yes. It may also be this place, seeking to repel us.”

Sera harrumphed. “So what else should we do? There’s friggin nothing else to do but this!”

Blackwall looked up at Ali and cocked his head. “Frigging in the rigging, right? When there’s fuck all else to do?”

Ali’s mouth dropped open in shock, and the air briefly lost its dangerous edge. She wasn’t sure if Blackwall knew what he was saying, but then he dropped her a wink and she knew he did.

It was the first bit of a song – a very particular song sung throughout the Free Marches by sailors and dockworkers. It was also a song that Ali’s Mama had forbidden from the Trevelyan house under pain of great punishment – which meant that they all learned it immediately. They’d never sung it in the Inquisition, but Blackwall was a ‘Marcher himself, so of course he knew the dratted thing.

Shaking her head and fighting back a grin, she chanted the line back to Blackwall. As she turned and led her party forward, Ali took one more deep breath and started to sing in earnest. Blackwall’s rich voice joined her, with Sera leaping in on the chorus. If they were singing, they couldn’t be fighting. And if something in this jungle didn’t want them to be there, then fuck ‘em. They could enjoy the crudest song that Ali knew, and she’d be damned if she cared.

_The captain of the lugger_  
_Was known as a filthy bugger,_  
_Declared unfit to shovel shit_  
_From one pile to another._

_Friggin' in the riggin'..._  
_There's fuck-all else to do._

*****

Cullen knelt and checked the body for a pulse, trying not to look too closely at the face buried under red lyrium. Not all of Corypheus’s troops were former Templars, but he still didn’t want to risk recognizing someone he’d killed as a former brother in arms.

There was no pulse, and the body was very much a corpse. Satisfied, he straightened and surveyed the battlefield, checking on the placement of all his soldiers. It looked like they hadn’t lost anyone in the latest scuffle, although Jim’s leg looked bloodied and nearly lame. Cullen gave him the signal to stand down, and the man did so immediately, potion already in hand.

With any luck, that would be the last of them for a while. Cullen knew that counting on luck was a rookie tactic, so he didn’t relax too much. Instead, he kept his guard up and his ears open, alert for any sound of approaching foes. Sure enough, he heard the distant crashing sounds that meant more incoming baddies – probably big ones from the sounds of it. As he waved his sword to get everyone back into battle formation, he caught the sound of something entirely unexpected from the opposite direction.

Someone was _singing._

He barely had time to register that he knew the voice before Ali and her party came bursting through the undergrowth, magic already blooming around the three mages as they headed straight for the approaching wave of enemies.

His soldiers cheered when the first foes fell, then laughed when they caught the words of the song Ali and Blackwall were shouting at the tops of their lungs.

_While sailing on the ocean,_  
_We often had the notion,_  
_In cold and heat, to beat the meat_  
_With a peculiar motion._

Some of the troops joined in as the fighting continued, and as Cullen swung his sword, he noted idly that all the ones who did were from somewhere in the Free Marches. That made sense, he supposed, since that was a song that he’d only ever heard sung around the docks in Kirkwall. Aveline’s husband Donnic had been particularly fond of it, he remembered, often singing it when he came by the Gallows to drop off a bit of intelligence sent from the Guard.

_Becalmed in the Sargasso,_

Recollections from Kirkwall ended abruptly when a Red Templar lowered his shield and charged right at Ali. Cullen was too far away to get to her in time, but he moved as fast as he could anyway. Ali whirled around and raised her staff – foolish mage, didn’t she know she couldn’t get past the shield? To Cullen’s shock, she moved her staff minutely to the right and shot a burst of white hot fire out, directly at Blackwall. Horrified, Cullen watched the bolt streak out –

_To make the doldrums pass-o,_

-whereupon it promptly ricocheted off Blackwall’s shiny shield and straight into the Templar’s back.

_We launched a spree of buggery_

He fell, screaming in agony, and it was the work of a moment for Cullen to run up and stab him through the neck. This one looked Antivan – another brother without a name to mourn.

_Upon each other's ass-o._

That was the last of the opposition, and Ali lowered her staff slowly. She scanned the edges of the clearing carefully, still singing cheerfully.

_And when we reached our station  
Through skillful navigation,_

Ali finished her appraisal when she saw him standing there. Catching his eye, she waggled her eyebrows and pointed at him playfully. He was amazed at the change in her from the night before – she looked rested and fit, alive with the rhythms of battle. He knew what her gesture meant, and so did his troops. They all looked at him expectantly, and he gave a resigned sort of smirk before bellowing out the last two lines.

_Our ship was sunk in a wave of spunk  
From too much masturbation._

Some of the troops started applauding, and one woman gave an earsplitting whistle. Cullen just shook his head and held up four fingers, indicating that they should all take a moment to check their weapons and have a bit of water.

Ali splashed her way over to him, tossing back a lyrium potion as she did so. It didn’t cause him any cravings to see her do it, but he wasn’t happy about the blue liquid disappearing into her mouth. If he had it his way, the damned stuff wouldn’t be anywhere near her, no matter what the color it was.

“Thanks for that. I can never get through the last line without giggling.” She waggled her eyebrows again as she stepped in close to him, and he could hear the briefest hum of lyrium before it vanished into her mana. If it disappeared that quickly, it meant she was really running through magic very quickly indeed. That was a bad sign, and he scanned her carefully, relieved to see no sign of injury.

“No worries. Thanks for the backup. We’ve been getting pounded out here.”

Ali nudged the Antivan corpse with her boot. “So I see. The way here should be clear for a bit, so it might be worth falling back now.”

_That_ surprised him, and he took a closer look at her face. She was a little cheerful, but not nearly as much as she’d looked earlier. Up close, he could see something else in her expression – not the fear from the night before, but something like tension around her eyes.

Ah, it was resignation. Whatever had led up to this battle, the die was cast and all their cards were on the table. The whole of the Inquisition’s forces were committed, and the only way out was for their Inquisitor to keep moving forward and through. But suggesting he fall back?

“Lady, I think we’re needed here. The temple is just ahead, and you’ll need someone to watch the door for you.” He tried to keep his voice light, since there were lots of listening ears around. Solas and Blackwall were trying to look casual, but Sera had no pretense at all.

Ali bit her lip and turned a little, keeping her back to most of the people. “I’m sorry, but that was actually an order. Fall back Commander, and look for stragglers. Secure the main camp, and wait for an attack to come there. You and the Empress will serve as capital bait, and he won’t be able to resist.”

The logic was sound, but Cullen still couldn’t believe what he was hearing from her. “But… how will you…”

She clenched her staff so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? If I succeed in there, getting back won’t be a problem. And if I don’t… well, I don’t think retreat will be an option for me. So I need you to promise that you won’t come back for me. A real promise this time please.” She kept her voice steady and her gaze away, and he knew that she was trying to keep an iron grip on herself.

The reminder of Haven’s fall clenched at his heart, and he gripped his shield tightly so he wouldn’t reach for her. She was right, of course, like always, but he didn’t like it, never did. “Fine. I promise. Just… please be careful. Don’t underestimate Samson. Not after….”

Her eyes met his and she pursed her pretty lips, like she was steeling herself to say something. Whatever it was was lost when Sera bellowed out from behind them, “Just get to the snogging already. Fucker’s aren’t going to arrow themselves!”

The tension evaporated immediately and Ali chuckled lightly as she raised her hand. “Knuckles for luck?”

That seemed a poor compromise, but what in their history hadn’t been? Cullen forced a laugh as he tapped his fist against hers. “Luck, my lady.”

She nodded. “I’m not your lady, Commander. But I am going to gut Samson like a fish.” That was all she said before she backed away, heading towards the forward path.

The rest of her party filed out behind her. Cullen ignored Morrigan altogether, but he did give Solas a brief nod. The elven mage made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny the man’s skill. Sera gave him a raspberry as she passed him, and muttered something about _no kissing fools._ He stuck out his own tongue before blowing her a kiss, and she gave him a delighted salute.

Blackwall was the last to leave, and he paused for a moment just a pace away from Cullen. “Commander, I’m sorry that things…”

“Yeah.” There wasn’t anything to be said, but Cullen appreciated the commiseration anyway. “At least you’re with her.”

“I am.” Blackwall looked out at the retreating figures and cleared his throat. “If my life saves hers, then I will give it gladly. But Josephine…”

“Will be safe.” Cullen was glad to promise that, glad he could somehow repay this man for doing what he couldn’t. “She’ll be as safe as my lifeblood can keep her.”

No other words were needed, and Blackwall trotted after the Inquisitor’s party. Cullen allowed himself to watch until they all cleared the tree line before turning back to his troops and signaling them to fall back.

It didn’t matter that everything he cared about had just run by him. He had to go the other direction.

*****

Coming face-to-face with Samson gave Ali a truly delightful feeling of vengeance. She tried to remember what he’d done to Thedas as lieutenant to Corypheus, but at the moment, she didn’t care about that one bit. All she could think of was the tiny click of his trap for Cullen, and how close she’d come to losing him forever. Like it or not, he’d made this shit _personal._

So when Samson started in on his speech of ultimate villainy, Ali took true cold blooded pleasure in destroying his armor. The way he shrieked as it fractured around him was music to her heart, and she fought the urge to point and laugh at him.

Sadly, losing the armor didn’t kill him, but Solas very nearly did. It was just the work of moments to bring him down to size, and before too long, they had a nearly comatose ex-Templar prone on the temple floor below them.

“Can I do it?” Sera asked plaintively, arrow already pointing to Samson’s exposed throat.

The answer to that was very definitely no, because Ali wanted to do it herself. Not with magic – nothing that clean – but rather with a blade slicing all the way down to bone. The pure fury of her bloodlust triggered something in the back of her mind, and she remembered that she was the Inquisitor, and had to be above all lusts, both good and bad.

“Better not, love. Let’s get him bound and we’ll take him back to Skyhold for the Nightingale’s people. It’ll do everyone good to show that we’ve taken him off the board.”

Morrigan gave a snort at that, but Ali ignored her. She’d listened to the sorceress about how to enter the temple, but there was no way that she was going to take political advice from someone raised in a swamp.

Blackwall and Solas knelt to the task of trussing Samson like a Midwinter Goose while Ali went to consider what to do with the Well of Souls, or Sorrows, or whatever the blasted thing was called. The pool of water was the source of the discontent they’d felt earlier, and the portents from Abelas hadn’t made her feel any more kindly to it.

Morrigan explained that it was the source of great power – power enough to defeat Corypheus. That sounded good, especially in light of the body jumping they’d seen earlier. Still, great power or not, Ali wasn’t at all sure what she should do with it.

Tuning out Morrigan and Sera’s bickering, Ali knelt at the edge of the pool and closed her eyes. Not for nothing was she one of the best scholars in the Ostwick circle – she’d read nearly every book in their library. She sunk into a mediation, and listened hard, scanning her memory for any fragment of information that might give her some insight into this artifact.

Well, there was power here, that was for certain. And voice, just little whispers at the edge of hearing, tempting her towards them. Something about that was familiar, and Ali remembered her Harrowing, how demons had tried to get her to ask them for help. These weren’t demons though, nor spirits either. Still, there was something…

Her eyes snapped open with understanding, and she lunged backwards, away from the water. There was a spell, a forbidden one that all Mages knew about, one that could compel someone’s will and make it your own. Even admitting you knew the words to it could bring about an immediate Order of Tranquility, but Ali had seen it used once and she remembered how it felt in the air. _That_ was what this pool felt like – an overwriting of self and will.

Morrigan stepped up beside her, uncharacteristically at peace. “Have you made a decision then? Shall I be the one, or you?”

Ali wrenched her eyes away from the pool to her left hand, where the green pulse of the Anchor beat steadily. She already had one foreign magic permanently affixed to her – how would it react to another? And really, she thought wearily, when would she get to stop being selfless?

Nope, best stick with the Anchor excuse. “The Well is yours, but I think we should discuss…”

“Please.” Morrigan rolled her eyes as she stepped forward into the water and knelt. “I require no warnings from you.”

Ali made a rude gesture to her back, and turned to help drag Samson up the slope. Just in time too, for as soon as Morrigan gave a gasp and a gurgle, Sera shouted “Bugger my tits!” and an arrow twanged.

Turning in horror, Ali saw that Corypheus had arrived and was glowering mightily at the scene before him. Rapidly taking stock, she realized they were in no condition for another fight.

“The mirror!” Morrigan yelled, reaching out to grab Sera and Solas to yank them backwards. Ali and Blackwall lifted Samson between them and were only a pace behind, hurtling towards the pane of glass and bracing for the impact.

*****

They crashed to a stone floor in a giant pile. Luckily, Samson was on the bottom, so no one was squashed too badly. Ali lay stunned for a second, idly noting that somehow they’d come straight back to Skyhold without going through the Crossroads. She wondered how Morrigan had done that, and hoped that was what was supposed to happen.

Speaking of Morrigan… Ali raised her head to search for the sorceress, glad to see her sitting up, apparently unharmed. For all that she didn’t like the woman, it didn’t escape her notice that she’d grabbed for the elves at the last moment, helping them escape when she easily could have saved only herself. “You okay?” Ali managed to croak out.

Morrigan shook her dark head, looking a little dazed. “I am, yes. That was just… I need some time, I think. And Kieran will need me.” Without another word, she took to her feet and left the room, leaving the rest of them to sort out the mess.

It took a few minutes to get things settled. Samson was the first priority, so Solas and Blackwall left to get him secured in the dungeons. They would alternate watches until more troops returned, as no one wanted to chance a green recruit with the security of their second most hated foe.

It fell to Ali and Sera to send messages back out to the Arbor Wilds. Ali was the one to write them, but she hated having to grab the ravens, and Sera was more than happy to take care of it for her. By the time they were done, Samson had been secured, and Solas was back in his solar, happily dreaming away.

The women tiptoed out to the courtyard, marveling at the stillness of Skyhold. The entire place had been cleared out, with only a skeleton staff of servants and guards left behind. A light rain was falling, so Ali put her hood up and pulled Sera in under her arm.

“Well, then, lovey, what shall we do with our freedom?” Ali was determined not to worry or fret about her distant friends. This was unstructured time – a true rarity for her. “Would you like to learn how to make cookies?”

Sera looked up with a wide smile. “Friendship cookies? Grand.”

 


	64. Chapter 64

Cullen was hot and angry all through the afternoon. Having to fall back had been a terrible order to follow, and his regret and worry had only mounted as the day closed with no sign of Ali or her party. There were a few attacks on the camp, but casualties were minimal. It seemed that Corypheus’s forces had been pretty well decimated by the Inquisition’s earlier efforts, and it was but a small matter to mop up what was left.

It should have reassured him that Ali was right about her orders, but he was burning and resentful that he hadn’t been allowed to guard her back throughout her endeavor. Although he concentrated on his troops and the mission, he couldn’t stop the worry that festered for her. What was she facing in the temple? Was she injured, or scared? Was she even still alive?

As night fell, Cullen started to prepare a party to go back out to the Temple and search for news of the Inquisitor. Cassandra tried to talk him out of it, but he just pushed passed her towards his tent to grab a heavier cloak. He was waylaid by Leliana, who didn’t seem phased by his declaration that he was going back out into the field. She just nodded, agreed with him quietly, and gently convinced him to eat something and have a quick wash before leaving. In his agitated state, Cullen didn’t see the trap.

When he returned from the stream, shirtless and dripping with water, he found that his armor and boots had mysteriously disappeared from his tent. Instead, Josephine was waiting for him, serenely sitting on his cot making notes on her board.

No matter how much he demanded and yelled, she maintained innocence about the grant boot heist. After a few minutes, he gave it up as a lost cause – Josie really did have one hell of a Wicked Grace face. Shrugging on a spare shirt, he left the tent, determined to ‘requisition’ replacements from one of his men.

But he never got a chance. The Chargers fell in around him, forming a living blockade that steered him towards the mess tents and the liquor. Dorian pressed a glass into his hand, and Bull gave him a choice – celebrate with the troops like a good Commander, or get held down by the sitting weight of a full grown Quanri.

Cullen drank the drink, plotting his next move. Before he could do anything, the drugs in the drink took hold and he passed out hard, with barely enough time to wave an obscene gesture in the general direction of Bull.

He awoke the next morning, cursing himself for falling for the trick again. They’d drugged him before, and he should have seen it coming. Didn’t they know that Ali was out in the field with no backup? Didn’t they care?

His boots and armor had been returned, and he was hastily arming himself when Leliana burst into his tent, waving a raven message.

“Thank the Maker you’re awake! She didn’t use the code! Why doesn’t anyone listen to me about codes?”

Cullen ignored her complaints and snatched the message from her. When he saw that it was in Ali’s handwriting, he breathed easy for the first time in what felt like days.

_M is very vain, rightfully so. Back at Starkhaven, weather is glorious. Doggie says woof woof._

_ABSS_

Leliana leaned over him as he read. “They’re back at Skyhold, obviously there was another Eluvian there and Morrigan was able to use it, that crafty thing. The signature says they all made it back, but what could she possibly mean about the doggie?”

_Find me Samson, and I'll bring him to you. Like a dog with a bone._

Cullen set down the letter and tried not to panic. “It means she has Samson.”

*****

The first few days alone in Skyhold were magical. Ali slept for ages, hours and hours of glorious, decadent _unnecessary_ sleep. Every day she met Sera in the kitchens, teaching the curious girl how to make another kind of indulgence. They started with cookies, then moved to cakes and pies, then roasts and savories. Sera enjoyed it immensely, and they served their treats to the servants at lunch, both women covered in flour and batter, joyous and laughing.

Ali and Blackwall spent the afternoons in the armory, going over different types of weapons. It always started serious, but usually devolved into mock battles across the courtyard. It snowed on the third day, and they split up the recruits into teams and had an epic snowball fight. Ali lost in the end – she’d ‘borrowed’ Cullen’s ridiculous lion helmet, and was giving a very impassioned speech from the top of the stairs when she was double crossed by Cabot, who Blackwall had bribed to his side with a rare bottle of Josephine’s Antivan sip-sip. Ali crashed down into a snowdrift, whereupon her troops dug her out and dried her off, and everyone headed to the tavern for dinner.

Every evening, she and Solas met in his solar for knitting lessons. While they knit and purled away, they swapped bits of arcane magical trivia, comparing Elven and Circle spells. His magic was natural and grand, while hers was orderly and precise. She taught him some of the more mundane spells in her roster – he looked particularly good with the lush eyelashes the cosmetic spell gave him, but the pouty lip charm just made him look like a pufferfish. He taught her some of his extended herblore – her favorite discovery were the herbal brownies that let her hear color and see music.

But before a week had gone by, Ali was bored. She was itchy behind her skin, always alert to anything sound from the rookery or the gates. It wasn’t dissatisfaction with her company – in fact, they were as entertaining a bunch as she could have hoped for. It wasn’t worry about her troops – every day, she read through the raven messages and noted them appropriately at the War Table, and it looked like the returning army was making appropriate time. It wasn’t even trepidation about what to do about Samson – she snuck down every sunset in disguise, and he stayed slumped in the corner, sucking at the blue lyrium they’d provided for him. No, she told herself. The reason her breath kept coming short was boredom.

Except it wasn’t. By the end of the second week in Skyhold, Ali finally had to admit it to herself.

She missed Cullen.

It was stupid, she knew that. She’d gone months without seeing him before, all the times she went on the road across Thedas. But always before, she’d had a list of missions to complete and treasures to find. And while she was off on adventures, he was safely behind the walls of Skyhold, waiting for her to return, right where she could picture him. For nearly a year, she’d been assured of what her homecoming would mean – he’d have a hug for her, and before a day or two would go by, he’d corner her someplace private and wiggle his way into her trousers.

Now, she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. For all that they’d decided that they would only be Inquisitor and Commander, she hadn’t thought they would be so good at it. But ever since she’d returned from seeing Celene and Alistair, they’d settled easily into the routine that perhaps they always should have had. At least with that, she could see him every day, soak up the sidelong glances across the breakfast table and savor the bits of banal conversation at the War Table.

She could almost convince herself it was for the best, that she didn’t regret her choices. But oh, how she did. Nothing brought that into perspective like lying awake on a moonlit night, trying to picture what he might be doing now.

It was the beginning of the third week, and she couldn’t sleep. Her bed felt too big, and everything around her was a bitter reminder that _once upon a time_ , he had cared for her, and she’d let him go. It made sense in the light of day, but under the cover of this night, she was full of doubt and self-pity, sure that he had never cared, or never would again.

She blinked up at the ceiling angrily, unwilling to give up on the possibility of rest. She started declining Tevene nouns, but that made her think about the Templar who’d whispered the answers to her in the library back in the Circle, and then his face morphed into Cullen’s behind the helmet. She tried to count backwards from one hundred, but found herself shifting, trying instead to count up the number of times they’d exchanged favors.

When she’d seen him on the battlefield, he’d treated her like any other solider, hadn’t even protested about her stupid _knuckles for luck_ line. He was over it all, he had to be, and that left her missing him terribly, and she was back to wondering where he was and what he was doing. Once upon a time, she knew that he would have spent a night on the road thinking of her while alone in his tent. He’d told her some of what he thought about, whispered confessions husky in her ear. He would never do that again.

Feeling pathetic, Ali flipped over to her stomach and pounded on the bed with her fist, like a child caught up in a tantrum. She smashed at the pillow, hauling it under her head as she dragged her knees up under her chest – but the way her bum lifted made her think of that Maker-forsaken serial they’d read together, and she remembered the way he’d teased her about buggery and it killed her that he’d never tease her again.

That was the last straw. She flopped back around and kicked the covers off defiantly. Without pausing to think, she kicked her feet apart, letting the old shirt she wore hoist up around her hips. Damn him to the Void. Just because he was done with it didn’t mean she had to be. Licking her fingers contemplatively, Ali closed her eyes and pictured Cullen in his full Templar regalia. As she coasted her fingers downwards, she let herself imagine…

*****

Three weeks and five days was an entirely reasonable amount of time to return from the Arbor Wilds, but it was three weeks and four days too long for Cullen. He and rest of the Inquisitor’s inner circle had ridden ahead of the main force, but it was slow going. During the ride, his thoughts had been consumed by Ali – although she’d sent regular message, they’d had to be brief and non-specific. He hated the thought of her alone in Skyhold, especially with Samson nearby. During the day, he was able to talk himself back from the ledge of true hysteria, but at night, all he could do was lie awake, wracked with dread. Once, he would have spent those hours imagining delightful scenarios where Ali’s clothes all magically disappeared, but now all he could picture was her broken body lying at Samson’s feet. Cullen knew it was only waking nightmares, but still. If something should happen...

It would kill him. That was all there was to it.

When the towers of Skyhold finally came into view, he gave into the need that had been dogging him and spurred his horse into a gallop. Josephine and Leliana were only a few paces behind him, and they all pulled up at the bridge, scanning the structure for any signs of trouble.

Everything looked in order – better than, in fact. The windows were shining, and years of grime seemed to have fallen from the battlements. As Cullen tipped his head back, he saw movement at the flagpole. Three new flags went up under the green banner flying – one a dark bird, one a candle, and one strange gold blotch that might have been a lion. As soon as they reached the top, Sera clamored up on the battlements and gave a huge wave, nimbly leaping from stone to stone. Across the bridge, the portcullis rose with a well-oiled groan. A figure stepped from the shadows, hair cropped close and dress rucked up into a belt.

Cullen nearly fell off his horse with relief. It was Ali, and she was still whole.

*****

Ali tried not to fidget as her advisors brought their horses across the bridge in a narrow line. Blackwall joined her just in time to help Josephine down from her horse, whisking her away through her giggles. As Ali helped Leliana down, the two women exchanged knowing glances, tittering in the direction of the retreating pair. Behind her, Ali heard Cullen slide off his own mount, and she steeled herself to face him.

He was looking around the courtyard with something close to wonder, and she saw him note the way the rushes were clean and all the dirt was packed tight and even. Leliana looked between the two of them and reached for Cullen’s reins wordlessly, leading all three horses to the stable and leaving them alone.

“I see you kept busy,” was his opening salvo as he gestured around the yard. There was nothing in his voice beyond vague interest – certainly nothing reflecting the relief she felt at seeing him standing before her, handsome and present.

Ali bit her lip, unwilling to explain the real reasons. After spending the night with just herself and thoughts of him, she’d awoken feeling vaguely perverted for what she’d done. Determined not to give in, she’d channeled all her worries and frustrations into practicing every domestic spell she’d ever learned. Things had spiraled, and she and Solas had recruited Morrigan and Kieran into four days of a cleaning frenzy, leaving no corner of Skyhold untouched from their efforts.

“Yes, well. We had to keep busy.” Ali tucked her hands under her arms and nodded toward the Main Hall. “I think we have some time before we see Josie for reports. If you’re hungry, there’s a few hundred cookies that need eating.”

That perked Cullen’s interest right up. “You’ve been baking?”

Ali shook her head, nearly giddy with the relief of seeing him again, but determined to keep her cool in the face of his impersonal demeanor. “I’ve been bored.”

“Of course.” The corner of his eyes wrinkled a little, and he looked her up and down, appraising her for injuries like he always did. “No troubles with…” He trailed off, unwilling to say the name of the prisoner.

“None.” Ali shoved her hands into her pockets and started walking towards the main doors. “I’ve been checking on him daily, and he seems to be in a lyrium haze.”

Something flickered across his face, but it was gone too quickly for Ali to identify it. She guessed that it had to do with his closeness to Samson, and so she took a risk. Carefully she reached out to grasp his gloved fingers. “Listen, Cullen – “

But he shifted his hand away at the last second, and her fingers closed over nothing but air. Cullen glanced over at her and gave a tight nod before saying simply, “I have reports to do Inquisitor. We can discuss Samson at conference. Thanks for the cookies.”

Ali stopped walking, but he didn’t, pushing his way through the doors and out of her sight.

*****

_I’ve got to stop eating these cookies._

Cullen propped a hip against the War Table and popped another in his mouth. Ali hadn’t been kidding – every surface in the hall was filled with goodies and treats. He’d liberated a platter of tiny sugar dusted morsels on his way into the War Room, and he’d somehow already managed to eat half of them.

He had things to do – important things that required his immediate attention, but all he could manage at the moment was updating the map to reflect that they’d returned from the field. Everybody was safe back at Skyhold now.

Including Ali. She’d looked as healthy as he’d ever seen her, well-rested and well-fed. He’d scanned her for injuries, and it had taken every bit of his self-control not to let his gaze linger on the particularly plump parts of her. He’d been worried about how skinny she was getting over the last few months, but a few weeks baking cookies had worked a treat to bring back the curves he loved.

But that wasn’t fair, so he hadn’t let himself linger. She looked happy, and at peace with how things were. No matter how it cut at him to do it, he would keep pretending until it felt real. As long as it was what she wanted, he would put duty and obligation first.

With a sigh, he reached out for another cookie. Duty might come before love or sorrow, but today, he decided, eating these cookies counted as a duty.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I'm not dead!
> 
> This chapter was a bear to write, and my mother came for a visit in October. But she's gone now, so I should have more time to devote to this story. I think there are about 10 chapters left, but I'd really like to get a post-Trespasser epilogue done as well, so that may up the count a bit.

Leliana wished she could kill Samson.

It had been her idea to recruit Cullen in the early days of the Inquisition. She and Cassandra had both heard of him, of course – the golden haired Knight Commander who was holding the city together with spit and will, but Leliana had actually met him years before during the Blight. She knew where he had come from, knew what he would be capable of. He had only been a tool at first, but she’d found herself impressed with him almost immediately upon his arrival in Haven.

The bard in her thrilled at his storybook handsomeness, and she appreciated his no-nonsense attitude towards martial matters. But really, it was something deeper that made her fondness for him grow into friendship. He had good bones – a core of clean righteousness that made him trustworthy. He would fail and fall, because he was mortal, but it would never be due to malice or greed. There weren’t many people Leliana could say that about. Josephine and the Hero, maybe old Tug. Even Alinora wasn’t good like that – there was too much politics in her, too much scheming and compromising. No, Alinora was more like Leliana then the Herald wanted to admit, loathe as either woman would be to admit it.

But Cullen – he was genuinely good. He stopped taking lyrium on principle alone, a feat which had staggered every other Templar who had ever attempted it. Spit and will again, just a man waging war with his own body, and eking out one small victory after another, for no other reason except it was _the right thing to do_.

Leliana had known about Cullen and Alinora from the start – she’d been patrolling in the woods after Adamant and heard enough of their conversation to put it together. She’d thought it was a one-time thing, but after they returned to Skyhold, there were a times that both of them went missing for a few brief moments before emerging red cheeked and happy.

No one else in the Inquisition kept so close an eye on the whereabouts of its members, so Leliana wasn’t worried about others discovering the secret. The pair of them were as discreet as she could have wished, and it gave her joy to know that they had found each other. She also enjoyed helping them find those moments of privacy, even if they never saw her pulling the strings that kept people away from their trysting spots.

And when it had all fallen apart – well, Leliana recognized when she’d been outmaneuvered, and Alinora had done that quite handily. The scene in the War Room had infuriated her, but to be fair, the Inquisitor did raise some good points about the Wardens. And the judgment of Blackwall had been a masterstroke of politicking – Leliana herself couldn’t have built a better solution.

So now everything was ticking along steadily, and the Inquisition was thriving after the victory in the Arbor Wilds. Everyone except for their Inquisitor and their Commander. Leliana wasn’t worried about Alinora. She’d proven she could take care of herself, and even if she couldn’t, she had a whole passel of friends standing behind her. But Cullen… well, he wasn’t doing so well. The tremor was back in his hand, so slight that no one else could have noticed it, perhaps not even him. Some of it was due to the loss of Ali, but some of it was due to Samson.

All her intelligence had revealed was that the two men had once been roommates and friends. There were reports of nights spent out in Kirkwall, including two drunken brawls and an incident with a fishing boat. There was an official commendation signed by Cullen that recommended Samson be reinstated as a Templar, but Meredith had summarily rejected it. Leliana knew the details there, but they weren’t important. What mattered was that they had been close, once, and the betrayal of that closeness weighed heavily on Cullen’s broad shoulders.

For days after their return from battle, Leliana watched Cullen watch the prison. Whenever they walked by the doors to the cells, his eyes dragged over to the lock. He would clutch at his left forearm, over the place he used to inject his ration of lyrium, and his words would stutter, just a tiny fraction of a hiccup as his body cried out for relief and he pushed his wants away. Leliana saw it all.

So she thought of killing Samson, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t her place to do it, not her authority. Once she would have done it without thinking, but that was before. Before the scene at the War Table, before the Inquisitor had bested them all in her judgments. Before Alinora had extended an unearned hand of friendship and brought out a long-lost gentleness that Leliana had thought once lost. So she wanted to kill Samson, but she didn’t.

*****

“Forgive me Inquisitor. For personal interest, I have relieved Josephine, as you might expect.” Cullen’s voice probably sounded normal to everyone else who heard it, but Ali caught the thin edge of darkness that lurked there. “Knight-Templar Samson, general to Corypheus, traitor to the Order. The blood on his hands cannot be measured. His head it too valuable to take. Kirkwall, Orlais, many would see him suffer. I can’t say I’m not one of them.”

Cullen stepped back, fingers white where he clutched Josephine’s board. Ali gave him a slight nod from her perch on her throne, wishing they could have done this some other way. She’d been holding out hope that Samson’s body would give out without his red lyrium, but it had been a week and he was still alive. The judgement couldn’t be put off any longer, but oh, how she wished she could spare Cullen this.

The Hall was packed with soldiers and courtiers, every one vying to get a look at Corypheus’ right-hand man. Ali flicked her eyes up towards Vivienne’s balcony, where her entire inner circle had gathered to show support. Dorian caught her eye and blew her a kiss, Varric gave her a salute. At least she had them in case things went sideways.

“The headman’s axe isn’t enough? That’s an impressive amount of ill-will.” Ali knew her line well, since Josephine had coached her and Cullen on how to start this judgment to keep the people from clamoring out for an execution. They weren’t sure what would happen after this opening salvo – it would entirely depend on what Samson decided to say.

_Please me remorseful, please be remorseful_ , Ali prayed silently.

Samson lifted his face and stared directly at Ali with eyes full of fire and hate. “What farce is this? Just kill me and be done with it, mage.”

_So that’s how he’s going to be. Time for angry Inquisitor. Maybe some glibness too._ “Don’t think for a second that I haven’t considered it, but like the Commander said, too many of us have a stake in your hide. Please don’t assume that your continued breath is a mark of favor towards your sorry self.”

A few titters ran around the hall, and Samson’s eyes narrowed. Anger and Glibness, check and check. Ali leaned back, waiting to see how he would respond, wondering if he would surprise her.

“This is a sham of a trial and I reject the authority that brings me here.” Samson’s voice was shockingly even and measured, but Ali still sneered at him as if he’d thrown a tantrum. _So it’ll be business as usual then._

“You think you are the first to come before this throne and reject this cause? You may reject us all you wish, but the nations of Thedas recognize this body, and that is enough. Shall we move on to your crimes?” Every single person save Blackwall had tried this tactic, and Ali’s response was well-practiced. If Samson followed the same path, he would now admit culpability in a lesser crime, trying to escape the larger punishments.

But he finally surprised her.

“I did nothing wrong!” Samson roared, almost making it to his feet before the guards shoved him back down. “I was punished for helping vermin like you!”

“Vermin?” That threatened to make Ali mad. She’d been called worse, her whole life, but the person he’d helped had been Maddox. “You dare call him vermin? You took a man under your protection and they made him Tranquil! You promised him salvation and he _died_! For you and your false god!”

“False?” Samson spat at her. “Oh little girl, you know nothing! There is no Maker and Andraste was a knife-ear loving slut!”

Without conscious thought, the Anchor in Ali’s hand bloomed to life, casting a green glow across the dais. “You think blasphemy will save you now?” She forced her hand closed, dimming the light. Out in the Hall, some of the courtiers looked frightened, not of the magic but of the claim against the Maker.

Ali sat up, as tall and big as she could be to address the room at large. “We have heard these claims before, made by those who seek to undermine our cause. But we know the truth, and our faith leaves us strong.” Looking down, she gave Samson a pitying smile. “Or didn’t you know that it was Andraste who armed me with this weapon, who leads me through the dark woods and into the light? I have met your master, ser, and no God of mine could fall so easily.”

There were murmurings of understanding among the crowd, but Samson wasn’t cowed, not even a little bit. Ali took her time getting settled back on her throne, eyeing the man in front of her warily. If he couldn’t come at her through her faith, then what would he…

Ah. Samson’s eyes left hers briefly, flicking over to where Cullen stood. Ali had almost forgotten he was there – the slight against Andraste had distracted her, and she cursed herself for the lapse. She badly wanted to look at him to take his measure, but the gleam in Samson’s eyes kept her focus.

“She is a pretty piece, I’ll give you that.” Samson had dropped his voice to a conversational tone, and he was talking to Cullen like they were old friends. “Nice piece of cunny, she is.”

Ali still didn’t break away from the prisoner, but she heard Cullen give a nearly inaudible growl. He didn’t speak though, so Samson looked back at the throne, shifting his attack.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, what with his reputation and all.” Samson leered at her and looked her up and down, crudely staring right at her breasts. “You’re a mite bigger than his normal lass, but I suppose all men want a bit more flesh when they’re living in the frozen mountains.”

Ali wanted to shudder at the lavicious look, but she kept herself still. The only response she allowed herself was a slow arching of her eyebrow, a sign that this attack wouldn’t be any more successful than the others.

But Samson wasn’t done. “You know we used to share everything, even women? He’d use his looks to charm a mage, and before they knew it, they’d be spitted in between us while we tore them up. Would you like that mistress? His cock in your cunt while I make you gag –”

“A-CHOO! A-CHOO!” From Ali’s right came the two fakest sounding sneezes she’d ever heard. A few titters ran through the audience, and she risked a glance to the side, where Josephine and Leliana were looking completely un-apologetic. Ali dropped them a tiny wink, and looked back at Samson, still holding her imperious expression.

For his part, Samson looked only a little taken aback by the distraction. He sneered at her and started talking again, like there had never been an interruption. “Would you like to try it out? I’ve heard what a slut you are, I bet you’re wet just thinking about-”

This time, the sneezes came from across the room, with some loud coughing mixed in for good measure. Ali searched for the instigators and caught sight of Dalish looking out from under a hood. It was the Chargers, scattered throughout the nobles. _Whatever would I do without these mercs?_ Ali wondered as she fought the urge to snicker at the anger growing on Samson’s face.

He tried one more time, but he was only able to say, “You fucking cunt-” before the entire hall erupted in sniffles, sneezes, belches and coughs. Some were from her true allies, and some were from those who only wanted to be in on the jest, but Ali welcomed them all. After a few long seconds of the sounds, she raised her hand and finally smiled to show her appreciation for the support.

“This is a trial, and he is entitled to a defense.” As she lowered her hand, she looked at Samson with the pity she would use on a child caught misbehaving. “Shall we move on?”

Samson glowered at her, but he dropped his gaze as if in shame. Ali leaned towards him, intrigued. He said something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch, and without thinking, she left her throne and walked a few steps closer to him.

She should have known better. His head snapped up and his eyes flashed red. _Giving him lyrium was a mistake_ , was all Ali had time to think before the Purge hit her, nearly knocking her knees out from under her. Cullen must have felt it, because she heard the ring of steel to her left as he drew his sword.

But Ali dealt with it first. All those long hours of training paid off – this weak blast from a broken man was nothing compared to the combined weight of Cassandra and Cullen’s practice attacks. It took almost no effort for Ali to flare her mana against Samson and the Purge was gone, puffed out back into the Fade.

He felt it go, and his eyes grew wide with fear and… respect? Ali didn’t stop to wonder, choosing to press her advantage again. “Do you understand now Templar? You can lash out all you want with your petty bits of bile and tricks, but I am stronger than you! I don’t know how many mages you’ve pressed under your boot, but I am not one of them!”

“How did you do that?” Samson whispered, definitely looking cowed now.

Ali forced a light laugh as she backed towards her throne, forcing her temper aside. “My Commander, who is _not_ my lover, taught me how. He doesn’t want me leashed, or bound by any Templar, including him. I am not afraid of him, and I’m not afraid of you. I see it now, you insufferable git. That trap in the temple wasn’t a punishment for Cullen, it was an invitation. You wanted him to come to you, to serve under you. Of course you did – all you ever wanted was to be like him. You are a sad, petty and jealous man.”

She settled back onto the throne, taking a moment to arrange her skirts around her properly. Samson was looking at her, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him and he had nothing more to say. Ali examined him in the silence, trying to look past the ravages of red lyrium and despair. He was a man underneath, and possibly quite a fine one at that. Mentally, she squared his broad shoulders, smoothed his skin, cut his hair. Not a bad looking man under there, one that might have caught her eye in the days of the Circles. The weakness that had brought him before her was one of his own making – whatever his words, he’d had the same opportunities that Cullen had been given.

“I have heard your defense, Raleigh Samson.” Ali fought the urge to rub at her eyes, knowing it would achieve nothing but a smear of makeup across her face. “You were weak, at a moment that you should have been strong. For your crimes against the Inquisition and Thedas I sentence you to imprisonment until death takes you.”

Samson blinked at her, looking confused even behind the haziness of his red eyes. “Imprisoned? You really aren’t going to kill me?”

“No.” Ali couldn’t even pretend to care about this anymore. “You can live as long as you wish. You’ll have no red stuff, but I’ll allow for as much of the blue lyrium as you’d like. Call it a thank you for what you did for Maddox, once upon a time. If you want to drown in a blue haze, be my guest. But if you want to try to make something of your sorry life, the Inquisition can make use of you. Think about the Maker, son. Try to decide what he’d want of you, and think hard on what might happen when you reach his golden throne. Which I assure you, is quite occupied.”

She raised her hand and gestured at the guards. Samson gaped at her as he was dragged away, but she didn’t care enough to look back at him. Instead, she cast her glances around the hall, noting the satisfied looks on the courtier’s faces. Up in the balcony, her friends were smiling down at her – Solas and The Bull especially. Leliana and Josephine were whispering next to her, probably deciding on the correct wording for the announcement on the judgment. As for Cullen, he was…

…gone. The left side of the dais was empty, but the door to the Undercroft was just clicking shut. Ali sighed internally and rose from her throne. As she bowed to the assembled masses, she considered just how bad this conversation was going to be.

*****

The waterfall shot a spray of nearly frozen mist over him, but Cullen didn’t care. The thunderous sound of crashing water was nearly enough to drown out the echo of Samson’s words, and the view down the mountain was almost soothing in its barrenness. Once, he would have called Samson a friend, the best one he’d had. There was a time when he wouldn’t have been able to conceive of him saying such things, facing him down across the lines of war and right.

It had been cowardly to leave the room, but listening to that filth had nearly undone him. It was a good thing that Skyhold had silenced Samson – if it had been up to him, there would have been a greasy head rolling across the floor the moment he’d insulted Ali.

“Don’t jump.”

The voice came from behind him, but he wasn’t at all surprised. He’d known she would follow him, that there was nowhere in Skyhold she wouldn’t seek him out after that scene in the Hall. She was too kind, too sweet, too _good_ not to worry.

As he turned away from the view, Cullen tried to relax the grip he had on his sword. Ali stood near the stairs, hands hidden inside her sleeves. She’d been so controlled during the judgment that he half expected her to still wear her noble mask, but she wasn’t. Instead, her eyes were wide and she was biting her lip in worry.

Worry for _him_.

“Are you well?” She asked softly, as if she didn’t want to make anything worse.

As if anything could be worse. As if he hadn’t had to stand and watch venomous lies attack this marvelous woman, like she hadn’t had to sit quietly and listen to filth be spewed at her. Cullen knew that no one in Skyhold would believe Samson’s lies – their reputations would survive. But even though they’d kept their distance, lost their thread of connection, he was still being used as a weapon to attack her. _That_ was the thought that kept rattling around in his head, keeping him from finding satisfaction in their defeat over Samson.

“Everything is fine, Inquisitor.” He very much wanted to share his worries with her and share in her feelings on the matter, but it couldn’t be. If things still weren’t as they should be, then he would pull back further, withdraw even further into professionalism and pride.

Without waiting for an answer, he bowed very correctly and headed for the other stairs, doing his best to ignore the wounded expression that flitted across her face.

*****

Was he _leaving_? After all of that, all of everything, he thought he could brush her off like that?

Without thinking, Ali stepped to the left, cutting off his exit. “Really? Everything is fine?” As she said the words, she realized they felt familiar in her mouth, but it took a second to remember. That was what she had said to him all those months ago, when she’d felt lost and alone in Skyhold, overwhelmed by the demands of her new position. She hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him then – was that what was happening now? Didn’t he _trust_ her anymore?

Ali’s mouth dropped open in horror. After all of everything that they had gone through, the fakery, the deceptions, the lies, the pretending – was this the truth that was buried underneath? She pressed a hand to her chest, driving her thumb into her sternum like she could dig out the pain that rose in her heart. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Cullen stared at her with blazing eyes, tall and square in a Templar’s wide stance, so beautiful that she could barely stand it. He tilted his head to the side, looking down and away as if ashamed. His throat worked when he swallowed, and it was a long moment before he found his words. “I have nothing to say, Inquisitor.”

_That_ made her burn white hot with anger. Stupid, ineffectual anger, because how could she get mad right now? How could they have any kind of fight or conversation when he wouldn’t even _talk_ to her?

They had always been able to talk.

Understanding broke over Ali, dousing her brief fury. It didn’t matter. Whatever this was didn’t matter one tiny bit. They’d made their choice, and all they were doing now were living out the death throes of whatever spark they’d used to have. Fed up with it all, Ali turned away from him with a sneer, pushing blindly out though the door and into the Hall, through to the basement stairs. Her eyes were hot, and bits of tears kept springing up, despite her efforts to purge them.

“Oh, hallo Inq- OOF!”

The impact was sudden, and Ali nearly lost her footing. She glanced down, ashamed to see that she walked right into Scout Harding, and almost bowled her over in the process.

“Sorry Harding.” Ali wiped her cheek quickly and smiled at the little dwarf. Harding was one of her very favorite Skyhold residents – her good cheer always brightened the mood of a room.

But her good cheer was gone today. Her normally rosy cheeks were wan, and the edges of her lips were pointing faintly downwards.

“Maker, Harding, are you okay? What’s amiss?” Ali’s own troubles were forgotten as she pulled the scout into the light of a torch.

“It’s nothing, Inquisitor. Just…” Harding looked from side to side quickly, like she was checking for eavesdroppers. “Why are men such _asses_?”

Ali barked a laugh. “No clue, but I’d like to know too. What did Krem do now?’

Harding shook her head. “It doesn’t bear talking about. I was going to get the Commander to approve another scouting mission, but… by the looks of _you_ , he probably isn’t in a giving mood.”

There wasn’t really any argument for that, so rather than answer, Ali snatched the papers out of her hand and unrolled them. It was a proposal from a Professor – something about the resting place of the first Inquisitor. It looked interesting enough, and a plan formed instantly.

She handed the papers back to Harding with a wicked grin. “Mission approved, on my authority. Do me a favor and go get Sera, would you? I’ll get Viv and Cass.”

Harding grinned back, a little tentatively. “No men?”

Spreading her hands wide with false cheer, Ali shrugged. “Like my sister Nessa always said, boys are weird and smell of mud. Go on you, I’ll meet you in the stables in half a bell. We leave tonight.”


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already?!?
> 
> I know this one is really short, but it's just to bridge us over to the next bit of story. Which should be up soon. Like tomorrow or early this week. 
> 
> Thank you all for hanging in there. I know how much I hate it when authors don't update, and I hate that I've turned in to one of them.

They didn’t talk.

It was the subject of much worry and discussion of those in the know – Cullen and Alinora just weren’t speaking anymore. Sure, as Commander and Inquisitor they attended to relevant business, but nothing went beyond that.

Vivienne was the first to notice that something was wrong. Every bit of correspondence sent from the field was ostensibly for all three advisors, and she immediately spotted the difference in Ali’s reports. For Josephine and Leliana, she added personal anecdotes, but Cullen only seemed to warrant an analysis of the Avaar’s defenses. When asked, Ali just raised an eyebrow and asked Vivienne to write up a proposal for how to utilize Trader Helsdim.

Bull caught it next – a report came in about a host of spirits throughout the Frostbacks, and he went to Cullen to find out how much he should be worried. Cullen just stared at him like he was speaking Tevene, then explained tonelessly that the Inquisitor was in charge of deciding her own risks. Bull knew what a lost cause looked like, so he left to find Dorian, pulling him aside for a reassuring kiss.

Cassandra was initially delighted when Josephine sent her the latest chapter of _The Harlot of Andraste,_ but when she started to read it out loud at the fire, Ali left to get more firewood. Even in her darkest moments, Alinora had always appreciated good smut when she heard it, and Cassandra’s heart gave a pang that even that was broken for her now. She almost went after her, but didn’t know what she could say.

Sera knew there was a problem when they returned from the Frostback basin, toting a friggin’ fantastic dragon skull and a mangy looking bear. When Cullen came down to meet them, he gave his usual poncy bow, but didn’t even look at Ali direct. All he did was just verify the precise spelling of Storvacker’s name without making any of the bear-y good jokes just crying out for attention. He didn’t even say nothing about the kickin’ new earrings that Ali had gotten from the bad-ass Avaar lady, like he didn’t even notice how friggin’ fierce she looked now. Sera took Ali to the tavern and got her some drinks. When Ali passed out in her loft, Sera snuggled in close and tried to hum her a lullaby.

Leliana thought the problem was still Samson, but she realized her error one morning at breakfast. Cullen poured himself some coffee and walked away without pouring one for Ali. The Spymaster bit her lip to keep from interfering. It was hard to stay back, but she had caused enough trouble.

Varric was distracted by the expedition to the Deep Roads, but when they discovered the true nature of lyrium, he wondered why exactly Junebug didn’t immediately write to Cullen with another warning about the dangers of a relapse. So he wrote it, wondering why _this_ was harder to write about than Leandra’s death.

Josephine was excited to show Cullen the invitation to his sister’s wedding that arrived, but he just waved it away into a mounting pile of non-essential correspondence. When she tried to take it up with Ali, the Inquisitor just shrugged, like family was of no consequence whatsoever. Josephine sent Rosalie a lovely gift of an Antivan marriage quilt.

Blackwall learned about it from Josephine, their new romance lending itself well to whispered worries in the dark of the night. He kept an eye on Cullen’s alcohol intake and Ali’s appetite, but otherwise, he assumed they would work it out just fine.

Dorian knew there was a problem just from watching Cullen play chess. The Commander still won most of the time, but instead of elegant strategies, he went for merciless brute force attacks. As Dorian tipped his king over, he wondered if it would help at all if he tried kissing the other man again. He didn’t.

Solas could see Cullen’s lights from his solar, and knew the Commander wasn’t sleeping. He tried to find the reason in the Fade, but there was too much activity in Skyhold to pinpoint anything, so he avoided them both. He had faith in them, and other things to worry about.

Cole took up a new habit of grinding his teeth, which distracted most everybody from his muttered warnings about fortress walls and cooling blood. He tried to help – tea for Ali and clean socks for Cullen, but he didn’t think either of them noticed.

Weeks went by, turning into a month or two. In between missions, Ali kept herself sequestered in her room, claiming important correspondence. Cullen took a new interest in fieldwork, taking several rides out to Redcliffe to arrange for provisions to be sent to the army that was still patrolling in the Arbor Wilds. They met at the War Table when necessary, and exchanged appropriate small talk in front of outsiders.

The Inquisition kept on going, gaining momentum and followers. Their scouts kept searching for news of Corypheus, while every nation in Thedas kept sending support and delegates to meet at Skyhold. Nothing was missed, no steps skipped, everything in perfect order. As far as the rest of the world knew, the Inquisition and its people were as strong as ever.

But those in the know saw things differently. Because Cullen and Ali still weren’t talking and no one knew what to do.


	67. Chapter 67

Considering how long they had planned and schemed for the final confrontation with Corypheus, in the end it was surprisingly simple. There was no lead up, no grand declaration of intent, no warning. Just a morning like any other – training finshed, breakfast over, on to the War Room for the business of the day.

*****

“We cannot lose this opportunity to improve our relations with the dwarven upper class.” Josephine said calmly, tapping her fingers against the table.

“And I’m telling you, King Bhelen will respond better if we offer it as an exchange.” Leliana responded as she sipped at her tea.

Cullen was getting more and more irritated with his fellow advisors as they discussed over how to handle the records the Inquisitor had found in the Frostbacks. It seemed a trifling matter to him, and he was dearly hoping they would come to a conclusion soon. He’d never liked these meetings, but lately, he begrudged every moment that kept him from doing actual _work._

Across the table, Morrigan and the Inquisitor were hunched over a report. Once, he would have braved Morrigan’s wrath and asked what they were doing, if he could help. But now, all he could do is stand and wait for his opinion to be solicited. Professionalism, he decided, made these meetings really quite boring.

As if he’d tempted Fate, Ali suddenly straightened, her eyes going hazy and distant. Before he could ask what was wrong, she shuddered for one brief second before the mark on her hand erupted into a sick green glow. Her free hand scrabbled at the table as she let out a grunt of pain. Cullen’s first instinct was to go to her, grab her around the shoulders and keep her upright, but Morrigan got her first. The sorceress slid an arm around Ali’s midsection, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. She nodded and closed her eyes, muttering under her breath through lips gone suddenly white.

Cullen realized he had completely frozen. Leliana and Josephine had done the same, none of them even daring to breathe for fear of upsetting whatever was happening. What was _happening_? After a few seconds, Ali’s eyes fluttered open and she took a deep breath. Without warning, she pushed back from her table and dashed to the door to her quarters. The women followed her, and Cullen brought up the rear, dread clenching at his gut.

The Inquisitor’s quarters were bathed in green light. Most of it came from Ali’s hand, but some seemed to arrive through the large windows over the balcony. Ali was standing in the middle of the room, lips thin and eyes creased in pain. Like a man entranced, Cullen walked to the windows, praying he was wrong. But now, the Breach was a jagged slash across the sky, green veil fire billowing out across the horizon. He was cold from fear, but oddly calm, like he was looking at the vista through mirror, or in a dream.

_Maybe this is a dream_?

Turning away from the window, Cullen inhaled instinctively, checking for the sulpherous reek of demons. But no, all he smelled was the vanilla bean and lightning scent of Ali, the way she always smelled under the dirt and sweat.

_Not a dream. So what is this?_

He must have said that aloud, because Ali’s eyes snapped out of their haze and she looked at him direct, gaze narrowing in focus. “That’s Haven.”

Her words broke the mood of the room, and they all straightened. This was what they had been waiting for, some sign of the next move on the board. This was why there even was an Inquisition, and Cullen’s mind snapped immediately to troops and provisions, all the things that he had trained and prepared for. A second later, he remembered the state of their forces and he nearly flinched. “Inquisitor, our army is still in the Wilds…”

“I know.” Ali cut him off with a wave of her hand, then frowned down at the Anchor. She clenched her fist a few times, and Cullen was relieved to see that the green glow dimmed, going back down to its usual vague pulsing.

“What shall we do?” Josie’s voice was weak and shaky, but her hands were steady as she clutched her board. “What are our orders?”

Ali took a deep breath and smiled at her Ambassador, although the grin was full of force and effort. “Gather everyone in your office, there’s no time to waste. Morrigan, go kiss your boy and get on the road. I’ll meet you there, but I could use a ground report.”

The two women nodded and left – Josephine down the stairs, and Morrigan over the balcony. Cullen barely had time to register that Morrigan had just _jumped out of a tower_ before Ali was speaking again. “Commander, would you mind packing some supplies for me? I’ll need potions and-“

“I know what you take.” Cullen cut her off. He’d done this for her before, back when things had been good. He wasn’t thinking of that now – it was such a small matter in the face of the Breach returned. Leliana didn’t wait for her orders, having already turned to the armor stand. Ali followed her, stripping off her shirt as she went. Cullen turned away quickly – while this was hardly a moment for modestly, he didn’t feel right about watching her disrobe.

He grabbed a pack and checked the contents. There was a money pouch in there already, and a bar of soap. The trail rations were in a box by the bookcase – four days’ worth ought to do it. Next came clean socks, bandages, and a handful of health potions.

The lyrium potions were tucked away in her wardrobe, but he didn’t pause as he loaded them into the bag. The song was there, because it always was, but it was weak and tinny, easily overshadowed by his need to get Ali prepared to go out and face Corypheus, to give her the tools she needed to…

_She might die today_.

The insidious thought floated into Cullen’s mind, momentarily pushing out all thoughts of duty and obligation. He paused over his packing, clenching the leather so tightly it creased between his fingers. Ali was going out there now, with no warning and only moments to prepare. He tried to reassure himself that she had in fact been preparing for months, but all he could picture was the way she’d looked buried in the snow, half frozen and very nearly dead.

Those thoughts weren’t helpful, so Cullen marshalled his willpower and pushed them away, as much as he possibly could. He glanced over at Ali and Leliana, noting that she was very nearly armored up. Her short hair was slicked back, and Leliana was clipping an amulet around Ali’s sunburned neck.

Clearing his throat, Cullen held up the pack. “All done except for the water. I’ll have it downstairs for you, aye?”

Something like gratitude flicked across Ali’s face, and she nodded. “Thank you. You go too, Red. I need a moment alone.”

For one wild second, Cullen considered refusing, wanted to slam the door shut and barricade the world away, keeping her safe and sound away from everything that might hurt her. Instead he turned away and left, trying not to think of anything but the Breach.

*****

“Maker, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted; to understand, than to be understood; to love, than to be loved.” As Ali finished the prayer, she stared at the flickering candle in front of her, letting herself sink into the heart of the flame.

Strictly speaking, time was of the essence and she probably should have gone downstairs with her advisors. But the reappearance of the Breach had cast her thoughts into wild disarray, and she needed this moment alone with the Maker to resettle herself. If this was truly the end, she couldn’t afford not to be centered, and a quick prayer wouldn’t cost her any time she couldn’t make up on the road.

Besides, Mama would lose her shit if a Trevelyan left for battle without making her divine courtesies.

Ali smiled at the thought of her Mother and pinched out the candle. She wasn’t totally settled, but her initial panic had started to recede. Still, she felt off-balance and teary, and she dearly hoped the Maker would answer her sooner rather than later.

Rising to her feet, she ran her hands over her armor, checking the buckles and straps, making sure her grimoire was secure. She caught sight of her left hand and had a moment of panic at the empty finger before remembering exactly why she was missing her grandmother’s ring.

That thought triggered another, and she stepped to her desk. She retrieved her jewelry box from a locked drawer and centered it carefully. If everything went wrong and she didn’t come home – well, they would find this sooner or later. Ali ran a hand across the smooth wood. It was strange to leave Skyhold without her ring, but it was safer here, tucked away in this box that Blackwall had made for her once. As for the rest of the contents…

Her eyes cast over the room, taking in all the gifts of comfort her friends had given to her. She’d been lost for years, she knew that now. The Circle had been a gilded prison, but its fall had cast her out into a cold and lonesome world. Coming to Skyhold had been a fluke, but they’d made it safe for her to be here. If she didn’t ever come back, at least they would know what it had meant to her.

There was no more time for delays. With one final booted tap to the lush bear rug, Ali left her room and went to join her troops.

*****

They had all gathered in Josephine’s office and Ali paused in the doorway to look at them all. These were the people who had stood with her through everything, watched her back and stood between her and danger every day, and _oh_ , how she loved them all. She loved that Bull stood between everyone else and the door, defending without conscious thought. She loved how Dorian always swayed a little in Bull's direction, like they were in constant orbit around each other. She loved that Varric and Solas were united in their protection of Cole, and that both kept one ear on the constant stream of babble the strange pale boy was muttering under his breath. She loved that Blackwall moved immediately to Josie's side, and that Leliana stepped back to guard them both and their blossoming romance. She loved the fact that Cassandra stood between Sera and Vivienne, and that these strange prickly women had found common ground in blood and fire, and forged a sisterhood.

_Oh._ The realization struck Ali, and she felt a little stupid for not having put it together before. _This is what family is. These are my sisters and my brothers, and this is my home. I get it now._

Ali cleared her throat as she stepped into the room, and they all silenced immediately. “I suppose I should make some kind of speech, we don't have the time. The Breach has reopened, and we believe this is Corypheus’s last play. A small group will move faster, so there will be four of us, on Dennett's fastest mounts. Morrigan is already afield, but the rest of you must stay here in Skyhold.” A murmur of discontent spread across the room, and Ali raised her hand, the Anchor pulsing with new energy.

“If I cannot close the rift, if I cannot kill Corypheus, he will come here, and everyone will be needed to defend our people.” Her voice softened, and she tried to relax the set of her shoulders. “Besides, we have done the Maker's work these last months, and stripped this false god of all his trappings. He's just some dried up magister now - and I don't anticipate letting him get the best of me. So now I need to know, who will go with me to Haven?”

Every right hand in the room went up, and a beat later, every set of eyes turned to Josephine, who turned red under the scrutiny, yet still held her hand up as high as possible.

“Lady Montilyet?” Ali asked graciously. “You wish to accompany me to Haven?”

The Ambassador raised her chin with all the dignity a blushing woman could muster. “You are the Herald of Andraste, and this is my home too. If you asked it of me, I would follow you into the Void itself.”

_That_ almost made Ali's eyes spill over with tears, but she blinked them away. “Thank you my lady. And thank you all, but only three of you can come.” She took a deep breath, and turned to start with her advisors. “Leliana, start writing letters. One way or another, we'll have news to send out in a day or so and your contacts will need to be ready to spread it. Josie - if we win I want to have a party, and if we lose we are going to have a lot of refugees coming. Either way, start planning for a massive influx of hungry people. Commander, you will keep your troops on ready alert in case a secondary attack comes here. Do not over extend them into the surrounding area, but try to keep the road clear as long as possible. You'll have the Chargers and some Orlesians – make good use of them.”

If Cullen noticed that he was the only one addressed formally, he was smart enough not to mention it, and he was keeping his face at parade rest. She saw the tightness in his jaw, and knew he wanted to say something, but frankly, she couldn't be bothered to hear it. He’d had weeks to talk to her, and he’d chosen not to.   _Void take him_.

Ali turned away from her advisors to her companions, hoping desperately that she was making the right choices. “Cassandra, Vivienne, you will be staying here.” Both women started to protest, but Ali cut them off. “We cannot risk any of the candidates for Divine. You will stay here with Leliana. Agreed?”

Begrudgingly, they nodded. Ali turned to Blackwall. “Thom, you're in charge of the candidates. Stay with them and make sure they're safe behind your shield. You'll have Josie too, since she needs to stay with Leliana.” Blackwall's eyes lit up with gratitude for being able to stay with his lady, but Ali only winked quickly in response.

“Bull, you're my strong sword arm in the field. Dorian, that means you're staying here - I can't have you splitting his focus out there. Solas, you're with me as well, since we don't know if Corypheus has any other elven tricks up his sleeve. Varric, you're coming in case you see anything about that asshole's resurrection we missed before which means Sera, you're going to be my archer on the walls here. I know you hate it, but you have the good elf eyes, and you may see trouble coming before anyone else. Cole, you're on messenger duty. If anyone needs to get news out quickly, you'll need to be the one to relay it.”

She stopped talking, suddenly breathless. The enormity of the situation pressed down on her as she stared at them, trying to commit each of their faces to memory, just in case. She scrubbed her hands over her face harshly, trying to focus. “That should do it. I love you all, and we would never have gotten this far without each and every one of you. I'm not saying goodbye, just... see you all in a few days.” She held a fist to heart briefly, then straightened. “Okay people, you have your orders. Let’s move out.”

*****

Ali stood near the main stairs, taking a moment to remember her first trip to Skyhold. The trudging through the snow, the long night of confusion, the three days of walking - then the remarkable discovery of a safe place to rest. Now she was faced with the same journey in reverse, only this time her companions would be her chosen warriors, and, saddled as they would be on their fastest mounts, the journey back to Haven would be a matter of hours, not days.

There, she would confront Corypheus, and there, she would finish him once and for all. Somehow, the sight of Skyhold brought her the peace she’d sought in her room, and she was suddenly at rest in her own skin. She felt no trepidation at the thought of this final battle, only a vague feeling of _letsgetthisgoing._ She had no fear of death, no worries of failure.

_I will not fail, I will not fall. I am the Herald of Andraste and this will be a Reckoning to shake the fucking heavens._

A bell rang to her left, the horses were ready. She pulled her nobility around herself, and walked sedately across the courtyard, squeezing outstretched hands and muttering Chantry verses in response to her people's hushed offerings of faith. Maryden watched from the tavern, eyes glittering with pride. Jim bowed as she walked by, lips white but hands steady. Even Helaine was there, holding her sword across her chest, bright light thrumming with mana. Ali took note of each of them - these were her people, and she would serve them well.

Her chosen companions were mounted already, and she waved them towards the gate where a crowd of well-wishers was gathering. Master Dennett was waiting with her horse, and to her great surprise, he gave her a very businesslike hug before handing her the reins. “Maker guide you, lass,” he muttered as he scurried back to the stable, clearly embarrassed by the brief display of emotion.

Ali hid her smile in the horse's neck, then, savoring the normalcy, rested her forehead against the warm animal and inhaled the comforting smell of clean horse and clean hay. She knew the moment he approached, though he made no sound. She kept her face firmly hidden in the horse and asked “Knuckles for luck, then?”

Cullen's voice came from the stairs behind her, husky with some sort of emotion. “I wasn't sure if it would be... It might not be my place.” His boots made very little noise as he approached her. “It was supposed to be better like this, but... now that the time is here...”

Slowly, Ali turned to face him. His neutral look from earlier had disappeared. The color was gone from his skin, and his eyes were wide and a little wild. He stopped a few paces away, gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips to her breasts then back.

The air between them felt thick, and Ali remembered the feeling of time displacement from the Tevinter amulet, and she wished that this was a spell that she could shatter. She wanted to step closer to him, but her legs were rooted to the ground and it was a long moment until she managed to stumble through space towards him.

He met her halfway, big hands wrapping around her ears in a familiar gesture of comfort. She closed her eyes and remembered the first time he did this, on that long ago day in Haven.

_Everything is inverting around me. We're back where we started, after all of this, after everything. Are we still us?_

This time, when his kiss came, it wasn't a fierce warrior’s kiss that landed on her hairline. His lips were gentle when they brushed her forehead, and she almost thought she had imagined it until she felt his exhale. Cullen's lips moved around her face, brushing her temple, the side of her eye, her cheekbone.

She'd been holding back tears since the breach first reopened, but one traitorous drop slid from her eye and traced a path down her cheek. When he moved to kiss it away, she felt more wetness and realized he was crying too.

At last his lips found hers and they brushed her so gently that she was sure the back of her head was going to fly off. This was no heated kiss of passion fulfilled, this was a kiss full of longing, a kiss that promised at all the other kisses still to come.

She was holding onto his forearms just to stay standing, and he was so _big_ in front of her, proud and protecting as he stood trembling between her and the world. His lips were a little chapped, but achingly soft on hers. She could feel his texture change around his scar, and the barest friction of stubble as he worked his lips so slowly _too slowly_ over hers.

She wanted to deepen the kiss, to grab him roughly and climb up his body and make up for all the time they’d wasted, but she was so afraid of breaking this spell, this magic that he was working across her body. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except stand there and be kissed, feeling lines of heat and comfort unfurl throughout her body.

At last he broke away from her mouth, resting his forehead against hers, breathing the same air.  She wanted to stay there forever, but only lasted a few seconds before they were interrupted by a very quiet, _ahem_ from behind them.

Solas gave her a sad, sweet smile from where he had ridden up to see what the delay was.  The feelings the kiss had summoned vanished abruptly as the true purpose of the day came crashing back to her. She stepped back from Cullen and tried to focus on the elf. “Right, I have to go... big bad and all.”

Ali turned to her horse and got a foot into the stirrup. To her surprise, Cullen grabbed her around the waist and lifted her effortlessly into the saddle. She met his eyes as he handed up her staff but he lowered his chin away from her as he muttered. “Luck, my lady.”

She almost protested out of habit before biting the retort back. Was this how she wanted to leave him? He looked utterly miserable, like he had ruined everything. She only had a moment to decide, so she threw caution to the wind and punched him in the shoulder. He looked up in surprise and hurt, and she gave him the sunniest smile she could muster under the circumstances. “You too, my lord.”

Leaving it at that and afraid to wait for his reaction, she nudged her horse forward and cantered out of the gate, her men falling into position behind her, and all of her people cheering their support. As they crossed the Skyhold Bridge she gently pulled to a stop and turned to raise her hand in a final salute.

Behind her, she could hear Varric's not quite whisper. “So Baldy, what took so long?”

“It seems the Commander had one final bit of business to settle with the Herald's lips.” Ali turned to Solas, shocked that he would give up the gossip so easily, then was shocked again when she saw the smug look on the elf's face as he watched Varric pull his betting book out of his doublet.

“Did you just win the bet?!?” Shock and outrage made Ali’s question come out as a shout, all thoughts of the Breach momentarily dispelled.

Solas didn't answer, but The Iron Bull laughed at her expression. “Boss, the important thing isn't that someone won money, the important thing is that he finally nutted up and kissed you.”

Varric leaned over and tugged on Solas's sleeve. “How did it look? Was it like a proper kiss, or was it more of one you'd want to see at court? Was there tongue?”

Ali whipped her head back to the two of them, jabbing a finger in their direction. “Don't you dare answer that Solas. This is not the time.”

Varric smiled and spread his hands, the very picture of innocence. “Junebug, you owe me an answer on this. Don’t try to pretend you don’t.”

That was infuriating but true – she had promised. Ali pulled back on her reins, making her mount shy to the side. As much as she wanted to keep arguing, the day was getting away from them, and she had _things to do_. “All right. If I tell you, will you stop prying and start moving?”

“Swear it on my furry arsed ancestors.” Varric looked up at her with bright eyes, pencil poised over his notebook.

“Fine.” Ali glanced around before gathering up her reins again. “It was like cool water on a hot day.” Without waiting for an answer, she spurred her horse forward again, pushing it back into a ground eating canter.

Behind her, Bull gave a low whistle, and Varric smiled cunningly. “Yeah, I can work with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, there was a lot of pressure to get that one right...
> 
> Battle with Corypheus is taking some time to get just right, so it may be a week or so before the next one. Hope this holds y'all over!


	68. Chapter 68

Simply put, Cullen had done his job too well

After Ali’s party had disappeared from view down the road, he had done his duty. Patrols were assigned, sentries posted. The plans to defend Skyhold had been made long ago, and his lieutenants had reacted with alacrity, deploying the soldiers almost instantly. He made rounds of the walls, checking in with each man and woman, making sure they knew their post, knew they were valued. Luckily, he heard no rumblings about him and Ali – it seemed that their interlude in the stables had gone unnoticed by anyone who remained at Skyhold. It was a small blessing, but one he was very grateful for.

When he finished the first circuit, he made another, than another. He wanted to take up a position of his own, but it wouldn’t have been appropriate, or appreciated. As he started his fourth round, he realized he was making his troops nervous with his hovering, and he had to force himself to step back, to leave them to the jobs they’d been trained to do.

Hours passed, and he tried to keep busy. He retreated to his office to work up a half dozen or so contingency plans – what if Skyhold was attacked by bears? What if the bridge collapsed during a siege? What if a Rift opened in the courtyard? What if Corypheus appeared and attacked them with hummus?

It was ridiculous and he knew it. But he wasn’t needed on the walls, and there was no actual work for him to do. He’d been too through in his preparations, and every solider under his command knew their job, every contingency was already covered.

But what were his options, really? Every time he let himself idle, he flashed right back to the stable, to the way Ali had felt in his arms. He shouldn’t have done it, had debated the decision right up until the moment she turned to face him. But he couldn’t let her go without telling her something, without trying to heal the rift that had opened between them.

And now he knew. Knew what she felt like, what she tasted like. It was the best moment of his life – that instant when his lips finally touched hers and he’d learned what she tasted like. How she was so soft, how her curves had melted against him, how she let out a breathy little moan when he slanted his mouth over hers.

And then she’d looked at him with shock, and he’d been sure he’d misstepped, that his affections weren’t welcomed. She’d positively bounded onto that horse, and he couldn’t think of anything to say, except to go back to their old joke, the old chestnut that had dogged their entire friendship.

But she had welcomed it, had smiled just like she used to, like the sun coming through the clouds. And she’d called him _my lord_ , like it was okay, like they were fine, like she’d loved him.

So it was the best moment of his life, and also the worst, because he hadn’t been able to kiss her again, and he might never be able to. She was out there, and she could die. Every time his mind went idle, he thought of the kiss, and thought that it might never happen again.

Finally, he gave up on the idea of doing his own work and decided to do someone else’s. Cullen made his way to the War Room – his penmanship was decent enough to help Josephine and Leliana with their letters.

*****

“What do you mean you’re done?” Cullen tried not to sound too put out by the news that the other advisors were out of work as well.

Leliana shifted uncomfortably across the table. “I’ve had those letters written for weeks. I have two versions standing by for every contact we have – I cannot do anything until we have more news.”

Cullen grimaced and turned to Josephine, who was picking at a piece of fruitcake. “And you? How go plans for a party?”

Josephine shrugged. “I’m always prepared for a party, Commander. But I didn’t want to tell the Inquisitor that – she would have felt burdened to find another way for me to feel useful.”

That shut Cullen right up, and he looked between the two ladies. “So for once we have absolutely nothing to do, and it’s now?!?”

Leliana shrugged and pushed her hood back. “It seems so. All we can do is wait. And watch.”

“But-” Cullen’s feelings of impotence increased. He looked around the War Room helplessly, noting the way the cracks let in a faint green light. If watching was all they could do, then damned if he was going to do it locked in a tiny room. Hoping he wasn’t overstepping, he crossed to the door to the Inquisitors quarters. “Come on then. Let’s get a better view.”

The ladies followed him quickly, trusting that he would know if Ali would mind their trespass into her room. As they topped the stairs, all three of them stepped out onto the balcony to watch the Breach ebb and flow across the sky.

Josephine was the first to break away. “I can’t watch this. Perhaps the Inquisitor has some correspondence that needs addressing.”

Cullen nodded vaguely at her, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Breach. He remembered when it had first appeared over the temple, how demons had poured forth in a never ending attack. He couldn’t see any coming down now, but he was very far away and couldn’t be sure. He hoped, desperately and with his whole heart, that Ali’s way was clear, that her fight would be easy.

“Oh my goodness.” Josephine’s muttered exhale distracted him from his thoughts, and he and Leliana turned as one. The diplomat was standing behind Ali’s desk, staring transfixed into the jewelry box that dominated the surface. “Look at this.”

Cullen peered over her shoulder. Instead of the usual jumble of rings and amulets, the inside was packed with envelopes. _If I died_ , was written on the inside of the box in Ali’s bold, elegant script. Wordlessly, Cullen reached around Josie and started pulling out the contents.

They were all letters. To her parents, one to each sibling. Each of her companions were represented, plus Dagna and Harding and each of the Chargers. Hawke had one, and Isabela too. Celene and Alistair, plus the Lady Cousland. Some were packed fat, some seemed to be only large enough for a page or two. It was a complete accounting of everyone that Ali had ever dealt with, or cared about.

At the very back of the box were three envelopes, each labeled for one of the advisors. Cullen lifted them out carefully, noting that Josephine’s was heavier than the others, but his was the fattest.

“She left these for us.” He said carefully, not sure how he felt about this discovery. “Should we-”

“No.” Josephine said quickly. “It wouldn’t be proper. Not if we don’t know if she’s…”

Leliana reached over and plucked her letter from Cullen’s hand. “Fuck that.” She looked at Josephine directly with a raised eyebrow. “I want to read mine.”

That seemed to decide the matter, so they each took their letter. Josephine retreated to the couch to read hers, and Leliana crossed to the bed. Cullen stayed right where he was, staring down at the pristine envelope. _Cullen Stanton Rutherford_ was written across the front in formal script. He knew enough about protocol and politics to know that this was serious – the way one would address an invitation for instance, not a dashed off note between friends.

He desperately wanted to know what was inside, but he was also terrified of it. What if it was full of blame, full of recriminations? He had tried so hard with Ali, tried to do right by her at every turn. But he had fallen short, over and over, done her harm and caused her pain. How could he see that in black and white, risk seeing all his failings laid out cleanly?

But he had been a coward for most of his life, and he wouldn’t be a coward now. Cullen settled himself in her chair and used his dagger to slit neatly along the top of the envelope. There were two things inside, a letter on regular paper, and a piece of neatly folded parchment. Setting that aside for a moment, he started with the letter.

*****

_Cullen,_

_There are things that need to be done, I'm sure. With any luck, I took the red bastard down with me and the world is safe again. If I didn't - if I fell in battle and he's still out there, I know you will find a way to kill him for me._

_But that isn't what this letter is for. I have lots of thoughts about you, but now that I'm putting pen to paper, I can't seem to form them prettily. I wish I'd done it when I was alive. I should have told you that I miss you, every day, all the time, even when you're standing next to me. I should have said thank you, and I'm sorry, and please forgive me. I should have said I understand, that I forgive you, that you always did right by me, that you are the best man I've ever known, that my whole life led me to you and I am grateful for it._

_There are lots of things that I should have said._

_I railed at you once because you took away my choice, but it has occurred to me that you didn’t have many choices either. At thirteen, our lives changed and we have walked those paths ever since. You gave me a home when I needed one, and now I'm doing the same for you. You don't have to take this to make me happy - I'm dead, apparently, and well past caring. If you don't want it, you can cast it into the fire or give it to your brother - or Sera, for all I care. I just want you to have a choice, your feet in your boots, going where you want them to go._

_Take care of everybody and yourself most of all. Do me one last favor and please don't take lyrium. It’s selfish, I know, but if you take it, you might forget. What we had should be remembered._

_Your Ali_

*****

Cullen felt rather like his chest had caved in. He stared at the words _your Ali_ and wondered how it was possible to be so gutted by two simple written words. Dashing his hand across his eyes, he carefully set the letter aside to examine the other piece of parchment she'd left for him. It was a richly decorated sheet, and the lettering was overly ornamented, decorated with a hundred tiny flourishes. It took him a minute to decode the actual words, and when he did, the damn thing still didn't make any sense.

It was a patent of nobility.

Specifically, it conferred upon the bearer the title of Bann of the Southern Bannorn, with all rights and lands associated therewith. It all looked very official - from the gilded lettering at the top to the signature at the bottom - _King Alistair Therin_ scrawled messily beside the royal seal of Fereldan.

Cullen gaped in shock and let the paper flutter to the desk. Across the room, Leliana looked up from her own letter with tears in her eyes. "Cullen, what is it?"

"She made me a Bann." He whispered, not really believing it was real. He'd been a commoner his whole life, and it had very rarely bothered him. There had been moments when he’d felt out of place around nobles, but he’d been mostly comfortable with his station, accepting it as his lot in life. But this… There was something both wonderful and terrifying in the realization that one piece of paper could change his entire future.

Leliana reached around him to pick up the patent and looked it over. "This is for the Southern Bannorn. Bann Ceorlic died a few years ago and he was never any friend to Alistair. It's good land though - if you want it."

"If I want it?" Cullen muttered faintly.

"Yes." Leliana pointed to the middle section. "There is a blank spot here. You would have to list your name to make it official. Alinora has given you carte blanche to do what you will with this."

Thinking hard, Cullen folded the paper carefully and slid it back into the envelope. Any decision he made now would be pointless until the future was more stable, and this was truly something he would need to consider carefully. "Her letter said that I should have a choice, but it didn't say when I had to make it. This will keep. What did yours say?"

Leliana shrugged and lowered her eyelashes. "Gratitude, mostly. A warning about playing God. A wish for a better world."

"Ah." That answered nothing, but he wasn't going to pry. "Josie, what about you?"

Their diplomat had been very quiet, huddled on the settee while reading and rereading her own letter. Now she stood up with tears in her eyes and something clutched close to her breast in a fist.

"I - she -." Josephine blinked rapidly, forcing herself back under control. "I am supposed to ask you a question, if necessary, but I find I cannot wait. What is the significance of the name Woodrow?"

The unexpectedness of it almost made him laugh. He would never forget Ali’s true name, not when it was so funny, and had been the first thing to bring them together. "That was Ali's grandfather's name. It has some special importance to her. Why?"

Apologetically, Josephine glanced at Leliana before unfurling her fingers and showing them what she held. It was Ali's gold ring, the one she'd carried through the Fade and the one her grandmother had given back to her in a dream.

"She said it was hers because of the name Evelyn, but Woodrow works as well. I don't even know how she knew that I..."

In unison, Cullen and Leliana dropped their gazes to Josephine's stomach. The spymaster lunged forward and threw her arms around Josephine while Cullen struggled to find words. "Really? A baby?"

Josie smiled, a big grin under sad and worried eyes. "Yes, a baby. But no one knows, not even Thom. I wanted to wait until after to tell everyone. But somehow she knew, and she gave away her ring." Her breath caught on the last few sentences, and she leaned further into her friend’s embrace.

Seeing the ring wink from Josephine’s hand instead of Ali's made everything suddenly feel very real and very final. There was a lump forming in Cullen’s throat, and no matter how hard he swallowed, it wouldn’t fade. Nothing had changed from a moment before, but seeing that ring gave him a wild impulse to drop to the ground and start wailing. It was _her ring_ , and she’d _left it behind._ Because she _might never come back._

The two women looked at his face and extended their hands, pulling him into the embrace. Cullen wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into his shoulders and resting his head on theirs. Their strength was a comfort, and he could feel himself calming, coming back into himself. He thought of the hours spent over the War Table, plotting, fighting, scheming, worrying and was glad that they were all together, here at the end of the world.

Glancing up from Josie's curls, he saw the Breach, vicious and green, slashing open the sky. They might already be at Haven, Ali and her band, might already be fighting Corypheus, might already have fallen. That thought made a tremor run through him, and Josephine noticed. She lifted her tear stained face from his shirt and turned to look at the Breach with him. "What can we do?"

Leliana pulled their hands so they were facing away from the window. "We can pray."

So they did, the last act of the Inquisition’s first three advisors. They knelt in a line, fingers intertwined. They knelt in front of a tiny rickety altar, one made by hand by a man worried for his friend. They lit candles and clenched their eyes closed, and recited the Chant of Light in voices desperate for hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, you never know when you'll be attacked by hummus. You rarely see it coming. 
> 
> Next up is a bit from the fight with Corypheus. Should be up in the next few days.


	69. Chapter 69

It was a good thing she’d killed all those dragons, Ali thought through the pain in her head. If she hadn’t fought them all across Thedas, this false archdemon might have gotten the better of her.

Of course, she mused groggily, it very well might have done enough.

Haven was nearly unrecognizable. Great craggy bits of stone jutted up from the ground, and the red lyrium was everywhere. Morrigan had done a credible job softening up the dragon for them, but she’d fallen with the job undone. Varric was the next to fall – knocked unconscious by the dragons whipping tail. Solas, Bull and Ali had gone at it hard, taking it out, but the final death throes had knocked down some of the stones, sending her whole party crashing down, buried under the weight.

Ali rested her head on the ground and took stock of herself. There were painful bits all along her legs, but nothing felt broken or bleeding. There was too much weight on her back to stand up, so she tried to summon her mana instead. Solas had taught her a spell to shake the earth once, and if she adjusted it just a little…

She tried to shift them, but she had no mana left, and no strength either. All she could do was crawl forward, her fingernails scrabbling against the ground, rocks shifting on her back painfully. It seemed like years passed before she broke free, into what passed for the open air. Groaning, she rolled over to her back, squinting up at the green streaked sky. The breach was pulsing, like a mockery of a heart.

Something niggled at the back of Ali’s mind, and she had to focus hard to make it manifest. Oh right, Corypheus. Killing the dragon had been a good step, but Corypheus was still out there, and she was still expected to do something about it. Despite the bruises along her body, the absolute exhaustion settling into her bones, the lack of any magical power at all, she was supposed to get up and keep fighting. She couldn’t exactly remember why, and she asked herself what the harm would be if she just lay here and died instead.

The wind was picking up, and she turned her head at exactly the wrong time. A blast of dust and debris hit her in the face, making her cough and sputter. She pushed up to her knees, trying to expel the dirt that threatened to choke her. More years passed before she managed to free her airway, and she gulped for breath like a drowning woman.

All the bottles at her belt were broken from the fight, but her waterskin was still there. She tipped it back and gulped it down, wondering why it vaguely tasted of copper. Thirst abated, she wiped her streaming nose on her sleeve, heedless of the grime that coated her, wanting desperately to be free, be clean, be safe.

From her kneeling position, she scanned the battleground, trying to find her people. Varric was visible by a pile of rocks – his breath steamed in the frozen air, but he wasn’t moving at all. Of the others, there was no sign. She was alone, again, here in the wreckage of Haven, stripped of all her weapons and support. Ali tipped forward onto her hands, trying to summon the will to move, to yell, to do anything about anything at all. She was useless, she was finished, she had failed. There was no point, not now, she was doomed, had always been. Ali knew this was despair, knew she should try to fight it, but everything hurt and she was so tired. How could she keep fighting?

A tiny bit of flora poked up from between two rocks, and she focused her eyes on it. Somehow, this bit of plant had survived the wreckage, kept itself alive and growing. Could it be a sign from the Maker?

As Ali considered what the flower could mean, a puff of wind blew an ember towards it, and the whole thing went up in a puff of smoke. Somehow, that final tragedy undid her, and she tipped forward with a low, mournful howl.

It was a good thing she’d wiped her nose, or she might have missed the true sign altogether. That same gust of wind that had incinerated the flower carried the scent to where she lay, broken and finished.

Just as she was about to slip into unconsciousness, (soon to be death), Ali caught the barest whiff of burning lavender. Her eyes had just fluttered shut, but they blinked back open. That smell meant something – something _important_. She’d smelled it before, the sweetness of the flower mixed with the heavy ozone of The Fade.

 _Andraste_.

Ali’s eyes flew open with recognition. After Adamant, she’d dreamed of her three ladies, but there had been a fourth. Just the barest presence, but one that meant that Andraste was real. Andraste had chosen her. Andraste loved her.

Whether it happened again, or she just relived the memory, Ali never knew. But as she lay in the wreckage of Haven, she felt the brush of fingers down her spine and heard a musical voice saying, “Have faith, little magelet.”

Those words slammed into Ali’s heart, pushing back her fear and doubt long enough for another thought to barrel in, even stronger than the first.

_Magelet. Cullen._

It was as if a veil was pulled off her eyes, like she’d awoken from a fever dream. Fragments shattered across her senses, memories and dreams, hopes and promises.

_Big hands catching her at the lake in Haven, a solid presence at her back to keep her safe, bare feet crashing down on hers while they danced through her Hall._

The smell of him, clean cotton, leather and soap, warm from sleep as he welcomed her home with gratitude and joy, sweat soaked and chilled in a glen in a forest.

_The way he’d looked blanketed in moonlight with water streaming down his chest, the way he’d looked in sunlight, blade flashing to match his smile, the way he’d looked above her burnished and gleaming – muscles clenched because of want for her._

The taste of salty skin under her tongue and teeth, the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, ales and twilsly and tea made just for her, the taste of his mouth, at last, finally, mint and teeth and home all around.

_The sound of his voice, clear and sure, telling her she was sweet, and funny, and very wise, and beautiful to boot. The way he’d sung, husky and low, a confession of love he couldn’t say._

From somewhere ahead and above her, a low roar sounded, like a man shouting in rage. Ali tipped her head up, zeroing in on the sound. That was Corypheus, and he was angry. A small smile quirked her lips – she wasn’t done yet. A new energy coursed through her, strength she hadn’t tapped, years of training telling her body that she could keep going, would keep going.

 _Lavender’s blue_ , she sang to herself as she wiggled out from under the rocks, kicking them merrily as she climbed to her feet.

 _Rosemary’s green_ , she sang as she burned the red lyrium off her clothes and skin, reveling in the freshness of being almost clean.

 _You’re not my God_ , as she ran past an unconscious Varric, swiping up Bianca and some potions on the way.

 _And you’re not my King_ , and she took off, leaping from one rock to another, making her way to her foe, her fight, her way home.

She was Alinora Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste, leader of the Inquisition, and Cullen Rutherford was waiting for her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorty chapter, I know, but I thought it deserved to be on its own. 
> 
> With Thanksgiving this week, I may not get another chapter up for a week or so. Sorry, but these pies ain't gonna make themselves.


	70. Chapter 70

The Breach was getting bigger.

As Ali scrambled over rocks and up the crumbling stairs, she tried not to think about the giant pulsing mass of energy over her head. There was nothing she could do to arrest the spread of the Breach, nothing except get to Corypheus and _get this done_.

His taunting voice floated down from above her, calling her a scum, a pathetic worm, a lost cause. His words galvanized her – if he wasn’t afraid of her, he wouldn’t be wasting time trying to wear her down. She grinned ferociously, feeling blood come from her split lip, feeling like the divine warrior she’d been training to be. She wasn’t scum, Corypheus was. And she was about to prove it.

Three more sets of stairs and she was there, suddenly, popping out onto the plateau where Corypheus waited, orb in hand. His lyrium encrusted face was turned towards the sky, and he was pleading with his gods to come and save him.

Bianca was every bit as graceful as Varric claimed, and Ali had three shots off before the bastard even noticed. The bolts thudded into his shoulder, but caused no harm beyond a break in his concentration. Which was all right, since it kept him from noticing the spell that followed to send lightning coursing down his armor.

Before he could react, Ali spun around behind a pillar to wait out his counterattack. The first time she’d met him, here at Haven, she’d been so overwhelmed by the sheer size of him to think tactically. Now, with years of experience under her belt, she could see that he wasn’t all that tough. _He_ hadn’t been going through his paces every day, fighting off dragons and Behemoths and Commanders. No, he’d been resting on his laurels, trusting in his lieutenant and dragon to keep him safe.

But there was no more dragon, and Samson was broken and hidden away. Ali huddled behind the rock and took stock, verifying to herself that all he had left was that wretched orb. Before she could second-guess herself, she was off again, spinning from rock to rock and letting loose with her own taunts.

Just as she’d hoped, it enraged Corypheus, and his strikes started getting messier, his aim totally gone. Still, she couldn’t get close to him, so she started waiting for an opening. When it came – no fire behind her, no rocks in the immediate vicinity, she pretended to falter and let his blast of energy hit her full in the chest.

It hurt. A lot.

Ali knocked backwards onto the hard ground, all her breath leaving her in a whoosh. Her armor was smoking a bit, but her barrier had protected her organs from vaporization. More importantly, the feint had worked and her foe was stepping towards her, thinking himself victorious.

“Not like this. I have walked the halls of the golden city, crossed the ages.” His voice was still pompous, but with a new edge of desperation that made Ali’s heart sing. He was brandishing his orb at her, but he kept stealing glances up at the Breach. She tried to keep her eyes half closed, hoping he wouldn’t see how she tracked his every movement.

“Dumant, Ancient ones, I beseech you. If you exist, if you ever existed, aid me now.” There was her opening, and Ali didn’t hesitate for an instant. She leapt to her feet in a move stolen from Sera and extended her Anchor hand, putting all her focus and will on getting _that orb_ into _her hand._

It didn’t just hurt this time. It was agony, fire slicking up her arm as her bone seemed to crumble into ash. But the pain didn’t matter, couldn’t matter. Not when Corypheus crashed to his knees in front of her, and not when a familiar voice in the back of Ali’s mind whispered that the orb was hers to command.

So command it she did. Through the pain, she wrenched her arm up, pointed it at the sky, and opened her mind and….

...as the energy coursed through her, Ali remembered Dagna saying she _thought all the thoughts_. It was ecstasy, it was torture, it was the Void itself, it was creation, it was…

…gone. The Breach was closed.

The Orb slid of Ali’s hand, landing none-too-gently on the hard ground. Corypheus saw it fall and gave a low groan, reaching out with one lyrium ravaged hand. Ali blinked at him, the sudden intake and loss of Fade energy leaving her a little dizzy.

“Guess that answers that. My God exists. Your’s doesn’t.” She stepped toward him, heedless of the danger, knowing he was done, finished, defeated. All that was left was preventing him from ever coming back. “You wanted into the Fade?”

His eyes flashed to hers, but it was too late. Before he could try one last trick, Ali pressed her hand out, letting the Anchor open a rift, just as she’d done dozens, maybe hundreds of times before. Nothing special about this one, except that it opened right above his heart, inside this broken failure of a foe, kneeling before her in defeat.

Three seconds later, Corypheus was gone, shredded into energy and scattered across the cosmos. Ali clenched her fist and stared at the empty ground around her.

*****

The advisors prayed into the night, stopping neither for food nor water. Cullen had gotten so used to the greenish haze of the breach, that when it closed, the sudden blackness of the night confused him for a second. Not Leliana though. She broke off the chant immediately and reached for his arm, fingernails digging in between the gaps in his armor. “She’s done it!”

Cullen somehow broke into a laugh and tears at the same time. The Breach was closed and that was a happy thing, but there was no way of knowing if Ali had survived the process. Well, not no way… Without pausing to think, Cullen leapt to his feet and took off for the stairs. Josephine and Leliana were only a step behind him, pleading with him to stop and think for a minute.

When they got to the War Room, Josephine got between him and the door. “Commander, please. You cannot go, what if it is a trap? We will need you here!”

Cullen growled in her direction, annoyed by even the slightest delay. He snatched one of his markers off the table and thrust it in Leliana’s direction. “You’re right, so I quit. Leliana can be the Commander.”

He pushed past them and out into the Hall, ignoring their protests. Cassandra came bursting from the undercroft a moment later, swinging a breastplate over her head. “Is it done? Did they survive?”

“Oh no, you must stay here! You are a candidate for the Divine, and we cannot risk you!” Josephine was bordering on shrill now.

Cullen didn’t slow, and reached for a buckle on Cassandra’s shoulder. The Seeker just turned her head and said back simply, “Leliana can be Divine. I’m going.”

“What?!?” Josephine shouted, but Leliana only laughed. “It seems I am suddenly a very powerful woman.”

“You are? Why?” Cassandra skidded to a stop and turned on her heel back to Cullen. “You can’t be thinking of going after her.”

Cullen looked between the three women and fought the urge to cross his arms and stamp his feet. “I was actually.” Setting his jaw, he stood as straight as he could, wishing he had a few more inches on Cass.

She huffed and grabbed at his arm, drawing him away from the others. “Cullen, you must stay here.”

“But she’s out there, and I-”

Cutting him off, she tried again. “I know, Cullen, I know how you feel about her. And I know the sacrifices you have made for duty, and I wish they were all over. But she put you in charge of defending Skyhold, and that job is not yet done. Do you think because the Breach is closed, the danger is passed? Think of what she would want.”

Cullen wanted to argue more, but he couldn’t, because she was right, as usual. His place was here, keeping the home fires safe while others went out on the road. “Of course, Seeker. Be careful out there.”

She lifted an eyebrow and gave him something close to a smirk before leaning in to grip the back of his neck. “All will be well, Commander. You’ll see.”

*****

Ali wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring at the place where he used to stand. Was that it? Was it over?

Scratching sound from behind made her turn. It was Solas, struggling up the cliff with the help of his staff. He walked past her and dropped to his knees, reaching out for the now broken orb. “I’m sorry, friend.” Ali croaked through the dust in the air. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I know you wanted it – maybe we can fix it?”

Solas looked up at her with something like shock – like he’d just now noticed she was there. Then as he considered her, his expression changed. Surprise, tinged with admiration. “It isn’t necessary. Some things are broken past mending.”

“I see.” She said, even though she didn’t. Extending a hand, she helped Solas to his feet and offered him the last of her water. Even though she was wrung out, she thought he maybe needed it more.

He took it with a murmur of gratitude and drank it quickly, color blooming back into his cheeks. When he finished, he toyed with the bottle for a moment, rolling the neck between his long fingers. He looked from the orb to the sky then over to Ali’s face. He dropped the water skin and reached out, tracing along her arm and down to the Anchor.

“I wish I could change things for you.” His fingers tightened around her hand, grinding her bones together with a sharp pain. “I wish this was not the path you have to walk.”

“It’s okay.” Ali closed her hand over his, grateful for his compassion, even if she didn’t quite understand what he was saying. “At least I don’t have to walk it alone.”

Solas tilted his head to the side. “Lavender and Rosemary. I envy you that, you know.”

Something shifted in his eyes, and Ali had the brief sensation of falling fast, of a well of aching loneliness opening beneath her feet. It vanished as quickly as it had come, and she blinked her eyes quickly, trying to reconcile the feeling with the elf’s calm demeanor. What in the Maker’s Ass was that?

A sound came from below them – a grunt of confusion that could only have come from Bull. Ali turned towards the sound, then back to Solas. “Are they okay?”

Solas gave her the same small smirk he always used when she asked an obvious question. “Yes. The Iron Bull has a broken femur, but it will mend. Master Tethras is unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. I believe he may be feigning sleep to avoid paying out a bet.”

He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a slip of paper – one of Varric’s betting slips. When she went to take it from him, he caught her wrist and pulled her close, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “You are my true friend, and I have pride for you. Do not forget who you are.”

His free hand ran over her head, nails raking into her sweat drenched crop of hair. A faint bit of warmth spread behind his touch, and Ali felt a familiar weight return to her head. Looking down, she saw her hair was back, far cleaner than the rest of her.

“What did you-?” Her question was cut off by another sound from below – this one a rock crashing down on another.

Solas smiled and released her. “I believe he is trying to stand, splint or no. You should stop him.”

Ali huffed and moved toward the path down. Of course he’d try to stand on a broken leg. Over her shoulder, she called back, “Grab the broken orb, would you? I don’t think it’s safe to leave here.”

Ali stopped and turned back, a crawling creeping feeling on the back of her throat. The summit was absolutely empty, both of broken orbs and elven mages. There was no way he could have passed her, and there was no other route off the mountain.

Feeling like she’d walked through a ghost, Ali considered the paper marker she held, and the new growth of hair on her head. Rather like goodbye gifts, she realized, from one friend to another, on the day of their parting. She shook off the creeping feeling and got to moving again. Broken leg or no, she didn’t fancy any of them spending the night in Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone who celebrates Thanksgiving had a great holiday!
> 
> Next up - return to Skyhold. Will things finally run smoothly for Cullen and Ali?!?


	71. Chapter 71

_In the long hours of the night_  
_When hope has abandoned me,_  
_I will see the stars and know_  
_Your Light remains._

The ancient words of the Trials hissed out from Ali’s cracked lips. It was the barest whisper of sound, but she kept at it, using the clop of the horses’ hooves to keep the beat. The sun had set hours ago, but a full moon illuminated her path, giving her just enough reason to find the next verse, and then the next, forcing a step forward with each word, ropes rough in her hands.

_You have walked beside me_  
_Down the paths where a thousand arrows sought my flesh._  
_You have stood with me when all others_  
_Have forsaken me._

The smart thing to would have been to stay at Haven. As soon as Corypheus died, all demonic activity faded, and the seismic shifts had stopped abruptly. With the rest of her party incapacitated, sound tactics would indicate that she should have secured the immediate area, started a fire, and stretched out with a hot mug of tea.

But sound tactics did nothing to dissuade the crawling sensation that had taken residence in her spine. Once Solas had… left, Ali stumbled down the mountain with the utter certainty that this was a _bad place_ , and getting _worse._

By the time she got to her friends, Varric had woken up, but he was still groggy and vague, with a disturbing tendency towards vertigo. Bull was nearly crippled from his broken leg – the pain made him more or less useless for planning purposes.

Surprisingly, Morrigan was the most useful of all. She was clearly waging some fierce internal debate with herself, but she was able to answer direct questions about her exhausted but uninjured state. Once Ali found an old wagon abandoned in the first battle of Haven, the sorceress helped her get Bull loaded into it. Her mana was too far gone to heal his broken bone, but she had just enough to send the two men to sleep so they could stand the journey. Of course, as soon as she cast the spell, her eyes had rolled up in her head and she’d crashed into the wagon, unconscious as the rest of them.

_I have faced armies_  
_With You as my shield,_  
_And though I bear scars beyond counting, nothing_  
_Can break me except Your absence._

The whole time she was hitching the horses up, Ali couldn’t shake the feeling that _something_ was watching her. She tried to convince herself it was only her imagination, but all her instincts screamed _run!_ So as soon as they’d hit the trail down the mountain, (friends loaded in the back, Ali along the horses to guide them) she’d started saying the Chant of Light as loudly as she could, hoping for a bit of divine muscle to scare away whatever was out there.

After a few miles, the feeling of peril started to fade, but she didn’t dare stop or fall silent. A few more miles after that the rigors of the day fell onto her shoulders like a pile of bricks, but she still couldn’t falter. Whenever she was tempted, she reminded herself that she knew what true exhaustion felt like, and this wasn’t it.

_Through blinding mist, I climb_  
_A sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base_  
_Endlessly far beneath my feet_  
_The Maker is the rock to which I cling._

By the time true exhaustion hit, it was too late. She was on the road, and any other option was too much to contemplate. So she kept going, step after step. She was out of plans, out of worry. All she had left was feet in boots, over road and under sky. The last time she’d done this walk had been in winter, slogging through the snow on the brink of death. Now, she needed water, and clean socks, but every time she thought to rest, it seemed prudent to go just a little bit further.

_I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm._  
_I shall endure._

The last time she’d done this walk, Cullen and Cassandra had found her. As long as she kept walking, they might find her again.

*****

Back at Skyhold, Cullen found himself wearing a path around the fortress. From his office to the stables, (just to see if there were any horses come back), then into the kitchen to badger the cooks about how the bone broth was coming along, (because the Inquisitor would be cold when [or if, but he didn’t let himself think that] she got back).

After the kitchens came the Undercroft and a chat with Dagna, (which only lasted until she shooed him out of her way). Skirting past the vault, he’d cross into Josephine’s office to check for word, (which she never had). A peek into the War Room to check with Leliana, (she never had word either), and he was off again.

He always checked the garden for Kieran on his way to the Chantry, but the boy had scampered off somewhere when his mother had left, and Cullen wasn’t going to look for him, not when the Chantry was just ahead, (the line to get in got longer every time.) After waiting for his chance to light a candle and snatch a prayer, he’d move back the way he came, squinting up at the darkness of Ali’s tower.

There wasn’t much in the basement to interest him, but he still looked in all of the rooms as he passed them, (pausing an extra beat at the desk in the library, [remembering her above him, hissing her pleasure, falling forward onto him]). In the courtyard he made his proper courtesies to the gathered folks, (although, to be fair, everyone looked a little too dazed and worried to be concerned about _courtesy._ )

The tavern was too busy to bother with, (and it had been long enough that word might have arrived), so he headed left and climbed the stairs, (always forgetting that the third step rocked something terrible.

Of course, there wasn’t word in his office, and nothing to occupy him, (except for a decorated parchment tucked into the desk, [and that brought a whole other host of worries – banishment, reward, bribe or punishment? {Cullen couldn’t think about it, until he knew all the variables, knew if he would be alone forever.}])

So, every time he looked at his desk, he swallowed his feelings and he headed out for the stables again to see if a horse had come back.

*****

She should have heard them coming – warriors weren’t a quiet bunch. But Ali was so focused on taking the next step and remembering the next verse that she didn’t notice when the hooting of owls was overshadowed by the torrent of hoof beats.

So when two figures on horseback crested the hill, torches throwing their shadows into stark relief, Ali’s reaction was born of instinct. At the first flicker of light, she jerked the horses to a stop and yanked Bianca up and out, already cocked and loaded. If she’d had any mana left, she would have thrown some fire, but that wasn’t going to be a possibility for a few more hours yet. The figures immediately halted their horses, but one raised a torch, illuminating two worried faces.

_Cassandra and Blackwall._ Ali thought. _Guess I was half right about a rescue._

She lowered the crossbow and took a step back, staggering against one of the horses. Relief forced her eyes shut, and she took several deep breaths, trying not to cry at the sight of her friends. Hands landed on her shoulders, guiding her away from the horses and over to a rock, the hard stone cold against her bottom.

_Is she hurt?_

_No. The others?_

_Spelled out, looks like. Everyone’s breathing, but the elf isn’t here._

Ali forced herself to look up at them, half noticing she’d curled in around herself. “Solas left, after the fight. I don’t know where, but he seemed fine…” She trailed off, noticing the inscrutable look that passed between the Seeker and her knight. “What is it?”

Cassandra came and knelt beside her, gripping pressing her hands over Ali’s cold fingers. “Alinora, are you… do you want...?” She pressed her lips together and grimaced a little before trying again. “I formally release you from the custody of the Inquisition.”

The words rattled around Ali’s head for a few seconds, but they didn’t add up to anything she could understand. Over by the horses, Blackwell huffed out a laugh and stepped over to them, kneeling down next to Cassandra the way he’d knelt during judgement. “What she’s trying to say, lass, is that the job is done, and now you need to make a decision – are you coming back with us?”

_That_ made sense, even though Ali’s battle-addled brain. This was the choice she wasn’t given before, not in going to the Circle, not when the Circle fell, or after the Conclave explosion, or when they gave her that sword, the choice she’d never ever gotten to make for herself in all her years of life. She could chose her path, shape her own fate.

There would be a plan in place, she knew that. Cassandra would never propose something she hadn’t thought through first, so Ali was sure that if she chose to leave, an appropriate narrative would be presented to the world at large. She could leave, knowing her job was done. She could go home to Ostwick for her family, or head into Orlais to spend time at Court. She could go anywhere she wished to be, and she would be protected by those who’d served her.

She looked at the two waiting faces, then turned to look up the road, past the wagon. Her friends would be fine, she was certain of that. And Corypheus was dead, the Fade safely locked away, and there was a whole world out there, waiting for her.

_But Cullen kissed me goodbye._

She didn’t mean to say that out loud, but realized her mistake as soon as Blackwall’s mouth dropped in shock. Cassandra let out an excited gasp, then clasped her hands over her mouth to silence herself, then thought better of it and asked, “Did he really?”

Ali almost laughed. Here she was, having defeated the granddaddy of all baddies, had a mountain dropped on her _again_ , on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and she was still managing to have a gossip with her girlfriend. “Yea. But goodbye might be all it was.”

Cass shook her head excitedly, but it was Blackwall who spoke up. “Might be, might be not. But he of all people would understand if you decided to go. That man would never hold you back.”

Those words rang truer than any Ali could remember hearing for a long time. He’d learned his lesson early, and he’d learned it well. Since Skyhold, he had proven time and time again that he would have her back, always and often. Even when he’d crushed her heart, he’d done it so she would have the choice that she was facing now, the choice to stay or go, to take her feet wherever she pleased.

They hadn’t really spoken in months. Their last true conversation had been in her room, shortly after her whole world had fallen into disarray and she’d had to pull it back together. They’d ended things cleanly, sterilized their whole friendship into nothing, left no path back. True, he’d come to her in the stables, but that was the very end of _before,_ and she hadn’t exactly been thinking with her whole head. _So_ while she loved him, fiercely and fully, that didn’t mean that a happily ever after waited for her at Skyhold, nor did it mean that his kiss to her had meant anything but goodbye.

_But maybe it did._

Ali shook that thought off – she wasn’t a youngster, choosing her whole life for the sake of her heart. She’d seen that path played out, over and over in her Circle, and knew that was a very certain way to ruin your life. She wouldn’t go back to Skyhold just for Cullen – that was too much weight to lay on anyone’s shoulders, even one’s as broad as his.

She looked towards the road again, back and forth, to home and to wilds, already knowing what her answer would be. Yes, the world was out there waiting for her, but she had seen the world, or at least a good chunk of it. She had done true good in that world, brought lightness and life to those who would have lost it. And she had found joy in her duty, and joy beyond her duty as well. The road held adventure and potential, that was true, but that waited in Skyhold in equal measure.

The two warriors were still staring at her expectantly. Ali wasn’t sure how to explain the convoluted path her thoughts had just taken, so she didn’t even try. She just squeezed Cassandra’s fingers, looked towards Skyhold, and smiled.

*****

Minutes later, Ali found herself on the back of a horse, tucked securely against Blackwall’s broad and reassuring back. There was a potion warming her from her belly out, and a blanket bundled securely around her shoulders. She wiggled her toes inside her boots and let the fatigue of the last few days finally sweep her under. As she was pulled into the Fade, she heard their voices pick up, whispering so as not to disturb her.

_He kissed her! Did Josephine say anything to you about that?_

_Nay. I doubt she knew about it. None of us did._

_It isn’t any of our business. Still, what do you think happened?_

_I can’t begin to speculate. These two… I don’t envy them. They still have a long road, would be my bet._

_The bet! Did anyone win the bet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Freaking holidays mess everything up. 
> 
> I did have a few plot bunnies of inspiration stop by, so there will be some expanded bits for some of the next few chapters. Yes that means a longer wait, but more words overall. 
> 
> Next time - they're all back in Skyhold again.


	72. Chapter 72

The first time Ali woke up, it was because of the hands on her, and the rush of cold down her front as she was peeled away from Blackwall’s broad back. Her eyelids were heavy, but she managed to drag them open just in time to see Vivienne’s outstretched hands, waiting next to the horse to catch her. She saw the mana forming, and fell into them gratefully.

The mage tsk’d under her breath as she felt along Ali’s sides. “Cracked ribs, at least four. And a gash here – how did you manage to get gravel under your skin you silly thing?”

“Sorry Mum.” Ali forced the words out, more for forms sake than anything else. The strange, prickling feeling of Vivienne’s magic was already working down her back, bringing some blessed relief from the hurting that had started to feel like an old friend.

“Don’t call me that.” Vivienne snapped back. Then, more softly, “Although, if I were ever to have had a daughter…”

“You’d want her to be just like me?” Ali rasped as she hooked a waterskin off the other mage’s belt.

“Maker no!” The horrified look on Vivienne’s face nearly made Ali snort the water out through her nose. “But I would tell her stories of your strength, and hope she took the lesson.”

“Oh.” That was the nicest thing The Iron Lady had ever said to her, and Ali was grateful for the sleep spell she could feel along with the healing. It kept her from having to find an appropriate response to such sentiment. Still, politeness is an ingrained thing, so just before she fell back under, she managed to murmur, “Thank you Madame.”

*****

When word came to Skyhold of the Herald’s survival, Cullen was walking across the courtyard for the nth time. He looked up in time to see the swoop of black wings against a midnight sky, heard the _caw_ that he knew, just knew, held the news he’d been so desperate to know.

So he ran. Abandoning all hint of decorum or civility, he took off at a dead sprint, up the stairs and through the doors and to the right and up more stairs and…

BLAM!

Smack into the scout coming down the stairs with a rolled scroll in her hand. He didn’t knock her over, but she did have to make an ungraceful hop backwards before she gave a short bow. “’lo Commander. Word came for Sister Leliana and I was just taking it to her now.”

“No.” Cullen could barely talk. “I’ll take it.”

Without waiting for an answer, he snatched the scroll from the scout and promptly forgot about her existence all together. In fact, in that moment, there was nothing else in the entire universe except the tiny bit of paper that held the sum contents of his heart.

With shaking fingers and bated breath, he unrolled the message, trying to bear down for the worst, to prepare himself to see the words that said…

A code. It was in bloody code. Bloody, nug-humping, fucking _code._

It was one Cullen knew, but not without the cypher that he kept locked in the War Room. With a frustrated roar, he pushed away from the stairs and started running again, straight out the door and rounding into Josephine’s office. The other two advisors were standing by the desk, and he didn’t even have to explain the situation to them. When Josephine looked up at his face, she dropped her wineglass on the floor. Leliana reacted better – she moved nearly as fast as Cullen had to snatch the paper away from him.

Cullen didn’t breathe, didn’t think, didn’t even let his heart beat until she looked up, and only when he saw the fierce pride in her eyes did he exhale, letting his whole body sag with the sudden knowledge that his life wasn’t over yet.

“She’s survived, she’s sane, and she’s survived.” Leliana gripped him by the shoulders and spoke slowly, but he was grateful for the repetition. If it was up to him, every sentence from here on out would start with a confirmation that Ali was alive and well.

“And the others?” Now it was Josephine’s turn to grab the message, the poor thing already starting to look a bit ratty from all the rough handling.

“Minor injuries all around, but Solas is gone.” The spymaster pushed Cullen towards Josie and stepped back towards the door. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Josephine nodded towards the other woman before pressing Cullen backwards, forcing him to sit on her couch. “She’s really alive?” he asked, wanting to hear it one more time.

“Yes.” There was laughter in her voice, but no mockery. “She is alive, and whole, and will be home soon. But not for hours yet, and you need to sleep.”

“No.” Cullen tried to sit up, but didn’t get far before she pushed him back, forced him to lie prone.

“Yes.” Now Josephine was mocking him, but she was also stuffing a pillow under his head and tucking a blanket around his legs. “You are going to sleep now, so you don’t fall asleep later, and if you don’t agree, I will go get some of those drugs that Bull is so fond of and make you sleep, understood?”

Cullen had to admit that the soft pillow felt divine under his tired face, and he consoled himself by thinking he’d only rest his eyes to the count of fifty.

He was asleep before he made it to ten.

*****

The second time Ali awoke, the sun had risen, but the cool of night was still present on her face. The hard wood under her back told her that she was in the wagon, but her head was on someone’s lap. Someone was humming, and long fingers were carefully puling at her newly long hair, easing out each bit of detritus and gently working out each tangle.

“Cullen?” She asked, vaguely thinking that no one else ever cared about her hair.

The fingers stilled, and a head floated into view, preceded by a slightly askew mustache. “No lovely girl. Just me.”

“Oh.” Ali blinked up at Dorian, disappointed at herself for being disappointed that he wasn’t Cullen. “Carry on then.”

Dorian’s upside down mouth moved, and it took Ali a second to figure out that he was smiling. “Go back to sleep. You’ll see him soon enough, and I can’t have you looking like a ragamuffin, can I?”

Ali turned and rubbed her cheek against the buttery leather of Dorian’s pants. “Maker forbid.”

*****

It was the smell of coffee that finally woke Cullen, hours and hours after he laid down. Old habits had him awake all in an instant, swinging his legs around and leaping to attention.

From behind him, he heard a gentle huff, as if someone had tried to stifle their laughter. He turned to see Josephine at the door, a steaming mug in her hand. “You two truly are a pair, you know? You’re nearly Antivan when it comes to your coffee.”

Cullen groaned and rubbed at his gritty eyes. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep that long. What news?”

She gave him an indulgent smile and passed the mug over. “Nothing but good, and you needed the rest. The Inquisitor has reached the forward camp, so we should start preparing for her arrival.”

“Where do you need me?” He asked gruffly, unwilling to show how any emotions on the subject of Ali’s return. He’d already given away too much when he’d come bursting into her office like a wild man, and he didn’t want them to get any ideas that might lead to a conversation about his feelings, or Maker forbid, his plans.

The glint in Josephine’s eye told him that he wasn’t fooling her, not for an instant. “You should shave, Commander. And possibly bathe.”

He lifted a hand to his chin automatically and winced when he felt the growth there. She wasn’t wrong, but there was something in her demeanor that was a little off from the diplomat’s usual easy charm. “Are you mothering me, Montilyet?”

Josephine laughed and laid a hand on her belly. “Can you blame me for wanting to practice? Now off to your room my boy, and don’t forget to wash behind your ears or you won’t get any supper.”

*****

The last time Ali woke up, she thought she was dreaming of demons. Hot breath washed over her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see a distorted and grinning face. She shrieked and lurched to the side, rolling over and turning to face…

…Sera, clutching her knees and chortling with laughter.

“You should have seen yer face Quiz! Scared you right I did!”

“I said to wake her, not terrify her.” Blackwall’s head appeared over the edge of the wagon, glowering at the uncowed elf.

“And she’s awake, innit she?” Unconcerned by the admonishment, Sera skittered over to Ali’s side and started shoving her towards the back. “Now c’mon, we’re almost home and I wanna see Widdle.”

“Widdle?” Ali hadn’t heard the name before, and wondered how it was possible that Sera had a pet that she’d never heard about.

“Uh… nevermind.” Sera started to blush, but Ali didn’t get a chance to follow up before she was pulled out of the wagon and swept into a massive, Quanri-shaped hug.

It only lasted a second, but it was long enough to knock the wind right out of her lungs. When she stepped back, she stepped right into Varric, who gave her an equally crushing, but slightly lower embrace.

“Are you both okay?” Ali scanned them up and down, checking for injuries. Bull’s leg was in a fairly substantial splint, but he was standing with no real effort. Varric had a bandage around his head, but Ali suspected it was mostly for show.

Amid assurances that they were fine, her other companions came to join them and all started talking in a babble of voices. It was a little overwhelming, so Ali leaned back against the footboard and took a minute to bask in their presence, relishing the not so small fact that she was alive and so were all of them. She’d accepted the possibility of her own death, but had always shied away from thinking of the odds of killing Corypheus with zero other casualties. And yet, in spite of the odds, here they all were. Even Solas, wherever he was, was hearty and hale when he left her service.

A glint of blue caught her eye, and Ali made grabby hands at the vial on Dorian’s belt. Sucking down the lyruim, she tried to focus in on what her friends were saying. It seemed they had arrived at the camp at the base of Skyhold, and were trying to decide if they should camp for a while or push onwards. She was content to let their voices wash over her, but then she heard Varric mention something about starting a new bet, and she knew that conversation had to stop right the fuck now.

Ali cleared her throat and they all stilled. “I know this has been a long day, for all of us, but I think we should go home.”

“Are you sure you’re recovered?” Cassandra asked.

Taking a deep breath, Ali took stock of herself. Whatever Vivienne had done to her ribs was done, and they felt rather like ribs should feel. The lyruim was working a treat on her mana reserves, and the long sleep since rescue had knocked out her fatigue. Her clothes were tattered and bloodstained, but that would only highlight how she’d won the battle, and at least her hair was neat. It wasn’t the best shape she’d ever returned to Skyhold in, but it was very far from the worst. In fact, the only thing she was missing to feel entirely like herself was…

“Does anyone have any kohl?”

*****

It didn’t take him nearly enough time to clean up. Cullen dragged it out as long as he could – sharpening his razor to a gleaming edge, fussing with his hair in the looking glass, buffing his armor till it shone, even sneaking into Dorian’s room to nick some of the mage’s cologne. Even with all of that, he found himself standing at the top of the courtyard stairs a good hour before Ali was supposed to arrive.

From his vantage point, he watched the courtyard fill with all the residents of the fortress. Word had gotten around that the battle was victorious, but there was still an undercurrent of tension as everybody waited to see the Herald of Andraste safe returned with their own eyes. Rather than wait and stew in his own thoughts, Cullen addressed the crowd, calming as many fears as possible. If someone had told him in Kirkwall that he would one day willingly talk to such an assembly instead of ordering them to disperse, he would have had them checked for signs of possession. But now, somehow, he was good with people, good at putting them at ease, good at leading them and offering them hope.

Before he knew it, the hour was up, the green flag went up, and he was joined by Leliana and Josephine. From the top of the stairs, it was just possible to see the end of the bridge, and he strained his eyes to see what the tower scouts must have seen.

And there it was. A plume of dust at the edge of the horizon, growing closer by the second. Figures formed within it, nine of them, all a horse. The ones in front had colors shooting up – the mages, Cullen realized, sending up fire and lighting.

When hoof beats thundered across the bridge, the entire crowd turned towards the gates and a collective sigh came up as everyone exhaled at once. When Ali appeared in view of the gate, a cheer started and rolled across the gathering. It wasn’t practiced, or pretty – some people shouted _Inquisitor!_ , some shouted _Herald!,_ but most just shouted _Alinora!_. The sound of it made a lump form in Cullen’s throat, and he reached out blindly, only to find that Leliana and Josephine were reaching their hands out for him as well. It seemed entirely possible that he might start crying from the sheer intensity of the moment, so he squeezed their hands and steeled his face to blankness, clenching his jaw to keep his emotions hidden.

As soon as she cleared the gate, Ali leapt off her horse and stepped into the crowd. Cullen only saw her for a second before she was hidden from view, but even that almost overwhelmed him. In that second, he took in her battle-scarred armor, her slightly charred staff, and the easy grace of her movements. She was alive, she was whole, and she was victorious. They were victorious. The Inquisition had been formed to deal with the threat of Corypheus, and they had done it.

_She fucking did it._

Finally, Ali made it through the crowd to the base of the stairs. She paused at the bottom and looked up at the three advisors, a soft smile unfurling as she pulled her braids over her shoulders in a once-familiar gesture. Cullen only had time for a moment of confusion at the change in her hair before she was racing up the stairs, practically flying as she launched herself at him.

He caught her, of course, hugging her tight and spinning her around once. She was laughing, the kind of laughter that sounded like it might have tears behind it, and he remembered the first time he’d gotten to hold her so, all those years ago in the War Room after he’d killed the bear for her rug. That had been one of the best moments of his life, but this one was even better.

But all too soon, it had to end, and she was twisting out of his grip, turning to embrace Josephine, then Leliana. The denizens of Skyhold were screaming their cheers by then, and she finally had to release all the advisors and bow to the crowd, hollering over them to make a speech.

*****

After what felt like her hundredth bow, Ali finally managed to get the crowd to dissipate with the promise of free ale and unbridled revelry that evening. She backed towards the Keep slowly, gesturing for her friends to precede with a twitch of her fingers. Once she made it inside, she bolted the main doors and took a second to press her forehead to the wood, savoring the few quiet seconds.

It wasn’t that she hated the attention, or begrudged her role in the Inquisition – she’d left all those feelings behind long ago. But it had all been such a whirlwind, and in spite of her hours asleep in the wagon, it felt like she hadn’t had a moment of idleness since the Breach reopened. While it was lovely to have all her people cheer for her, it was still more than she quite wanted to deal with.

And she wasn’t done yet. There were still reports to make, and a debriefing that had to happen. Besides, what she really wanted was a quiet moment in her room alone with Cullen, but not the Cullen who she had just hugged on the stairs. That Cullen was blank faced and impossible to read and she wanted the Cullen with the warm eyes and easy laugh, the one that had been at her back for years, the one she had cast aside for duty, and the one who might be gone beyond her ability to bring him back.

Yes he had kissed her, and yes, she had hope that they were still salvageable, but she couldn’t get that resolved until she got through this next bit, rehashed all the ins and outs of the battle and assured everyone that it was really and truly over.

“Inquisitor? Are we convening in the War Room?”

Ali turned to face Josephine, forcing her mind back into the here and now instead of the ifs and maybes. “Yes, of course. I just… needed a minute.” Her friends were all still clustered around the entrance, and she smiled reassuringly at them. “Why don’t you all take some time, and we’ll meet up at dinner. War Room gets a bit crowded with all of us.”

One by one, each of her companions filed out of the room. Blackwall leaned in to give Josephine a lingering kiss, but Cassandra took the time to look from Ali to Cullen and back, shooting her an empathetic frown.

Varric was the only one who stayed behind, but she didn’t think anything of it, being too preoccupied with getting her earlier thoughts under control. She didn’t see the trap until he opened his big mouth and said, “Hey Junebug, about that bet.”

All her roiling thoughts came to a screeching halt and she cursed herself for not anticipating this. No wonder none of her friends had made issue of the kiss on the road – she’d thought they all were showing remarkable self-restraint. She felt like an idiot, because of course Varric was just biding his time until he had her and Cullen in one room and could spin some new plot or plan. There was no help for it. If she didn’t address this now, he would just bring it up again and again. “What about it? Trying to welch?”

“Me? Never!” He had the gall to sound affronted, crossing his arms and looking up with an entirely unbelievably innocent expression. “It’s just that it didn’t count.”

Behind her, Josephine and Leliana were muttering to each other, and she could clearly hear the muffled thumps of Cullen’s boots as he started retreating – smart man that he was, he could see this was going nowhere good.

“Doesn’t count?” Ali asked icily.

“Right.” Varric produced his betting book from inside his doublet and gestured with it. “All the bets were on who you were going to kiss, and as I understand it, Curly kissed you. It’s the wrong way round Juney – so it doesn’t count.”

“Well then what the fuck does count?” She almost couldn’t believe that this was an actual topic of conversation so close on the heels of her victory. It seemed patently unfair that even with great cosmic events unfolding, she was still trapped in the juvenile trappings of her insane love life.

Varric tapped his book again. “You have to be the one to do it, and it has to be proper-like. With tongue.”

“You can be a real piece of garbage, you know that right?” When Varric didn’t so much as blink at that, Ali rolled her eyes and huffed. Ignoring the scandalized looks from her female advisors, she crossed the room with long, determined strides to where Cullen was apparently trying to sink down into the floor.

“Sorry about this,” Ali muttered in his general direction as she hooked her fingers into the top of his breastplate and tipped him forwards. Screwing her eyes shut, she licked his face, starting under his jaw, over his mouth, and ending somewhere around his temple. Ignoring his shocked expression, she finished by pressing her lips firmly to his, making sure to get a tight seal so she could pull back with the loudest possible _pop_.

As she hefted Cullen back upright, she whispered another _sorry_ in his direction before turning back to Varric. “Satisfied, you little shit?”

The dwarf tipped back on his heels and looked at her appraisingly, then turned to where Cullen was wiping his face down with his sleeve. “Well, technically...”

Ali could feel the anger rising in her, feel her face turning red. “I swear to the Maker, munchkin, if you don’t sod the fuck off right now…”

But then Varric did something entirely unexpected, something she’d never seen him do before. He stepped up before her and gave a bow, and not the basic one that dwarves typically used. This was a full court dip, the type of thing that Ali’s mama would have drilled the Trevelyan children on over and over. Hand on heart, foot tipped back, head to the side – every inch of the dwarf indicated that he was bowing to a superior, someone who had earned great respect and command. Most alarmingly of all, he was doing it with _no mockery_. The thought flitted through Ali’s head that perhaps Varric wasn’t doing this to be self-serving, that this was his way of trying to help, to break through whatever wall of bullshit and duty that she and Cullen had built up. With that thought came a flicker of shame that she had perhaps been a little unmindful of how much her friends had been putting up with from her over these last long months.

“Lady Trevelyan, I will have your money delivered post haste.” Varric held the position, only wobbling a tiny fraction as he balance on one foot.

There really was only one response she could make to that. Inclining her own body in a lesser version of the bow, she matched him courtesy for courtesy. “Master Tethras, I thank you.”

Varric backed up, and now his usual japery was back, present in the form of his added flourishes and curtseys. Ali stifled a smile at his antics and turned towards the War Room, but stopped when she sway the two wide eyed women in front of the door.

“Did you just-” Leliana asked, eyes flickering between Ali and Cullen.

“Are you two finally?” Josephine squealed, clapping her hands together delightedly.

Ali looked between them, then spared a glance over to where Cullen was standing, back ramrod straight and jaw clenched. As much as she wanted to either girlishly dish about every detail or keep everything secret forever, she knew that news of their kiss would soon swarm around Skyhold, impossible to suppress.

So she just shrugged and cocked an eyebrow. “It isn’t a big deal. Commander gave me a kiss for luck before I left. That bit now was just so I could collect Solas’s marker.”

“Speaking of Solas…” Almost like they’d practiced it, Cullen picked up the thread of conversation and ran with it. “We should start collating reports, figure out next steps.”

Ali wanted to kiss him again out of gratitude, but she resisted the impulse. Whatever else was going on around here, she was set on having _no more kissing_ until she knew where they stood.

 


	73. Chapter 73

Cullen was the last through the door into Josephine’s office, and he immediately wished he’d followed Varric instead. His fellow advisors were waiting on the other side, wide-eyed with excitement, in spite of Ali telling them that their kiss had meant nothing. It had hurt to hear her say that, even as he knew intellectually that she  _had_ to say something like it, lest they get sidetracked from the mission of the day. Unless she had been telling the truth, and it really didn't mean a thing?

Ugh. Everything was a mess, and his head was starting to pound from trying to keep it all straight. He was intensely aware of his arms, feeling their leaden weight dragging down. What was he supposed to do with his hands? Surely he was supposed to do something with them, but he couldn’t remember what the normal human thing to do was. If it had been a real kiss, well, he knew what to do then - catch her, hold her close, don't let go. But that kiss had been a joke, and even though he saw the target of it, he still didn’t quite understand the punchline.

Desperately, he looked at Ali, but she wasn’t looking at him at all. Instead, her attention was drawn down and to the left, and her face was tense and set. Cullen followed her gaze and winced when he saw what she was seeing. The shining ring on Josie’s hand was glinting in the candlelight, drawing attention to the certainty that they had discovered the letters and read them too early. He exchanged a panicked glance with Leliana, but Josie spoke first.

“Inquisitor, I apologize for our trespass.” Josephine rushed to make amends, pulling the ring over her knuckle and pressing it into Ali’s hand. “We shouldn’t have read the letters, not without knowing if you…um…”

“Died.” Ali finished, closing her fingers over the diplomat’s. She shook her head once and pulled Josephine close, clasping her around the shoulders. “No worries, lovely. I figured you would probably find them, one way or another. It just caught me short is all. Thank you for returning it.”

As she slipped the ring back in its usual place on her middle finger, she cocked an eyebrow in Leliana’s direction. “Any problems with what I said?”

The spymaster was brief. “Of course not. I’ve earned it all and more.”

Ali nodded and looked at Cullen, the first time she’d looked at him since Varric’s exit. “And shall I call you Bann Rutherford now?”

“No.” The answer popped out of his mouth so easily, it surprised even him. He’d been avoiding the issue for hours, but it was suddenly crystal clear. Her letter had been in the event that she died, and she hadn’t. Ali was back, triumphant in battle, and he had no need of a country estate and all the trappings of nobility. “I thank you for the honor, but my place is here. Unless, of course, you want me to take it?”

“It's your choice.” Her gaze was level, and absolutely unreadable, and he could feel the tension stretch between them, could almost hear the beats of her heart as she stood close enough to touch. It was like she was waiting for something, but he wasn’t sure what it might be. It was a long moment before she looked away, but she finally did. “Put the Southern Bannorn on the list of pending issues. And let’s get to the War Room. I need reports and I need them now.”

“You should rest, Inquisitor.” Josephine reached out to pluck at Ali’s sleeve. “Or bathe, at least.”

Finally, Ali smiled, a broad grin that crinkled her nose even as it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I’ll have you know that once Celene hears about this, bloody leathers will be all the thing next season.”

*****

Once they got into the War Room, duty and responsibility took over, and the foursome spent the next few hours absolutely consumed with reports and orders. Troops were sent out to secure the area, while a scouting team was dispatched to examine Haven for any sign of Veil instability. There was no word of Solas, but Leliana had her best spies out searching for any trace of him.

Josephine was over the moon with party planning, so when Ali’s share of the betting pool arrived, she handed it over to the diplomat with orders to make it a night to remember. Cullen did the same, although he groused about the impracticality of having to host even more courtiers at Skyhold.

Between one thing and another, Ali didn’t get a chance to go upstairs. Everytime she thought to excuse herself, she remembered another issue that needed addressing. Honestly, the work was welcome – she’d slept enough on the road to feel plenty rested, and although her clothes were sweat stained and bloody, she’d moved past the point of caring.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

Really, the problem was that every time she thought to leave, she would catch sight of Cullen out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t that he wasn’t friendly towards her, it was that he wasn’t giving her any sign of how he felt. Aside from the hug when she’d gotten home, he’d been nothing but professional in his interactions with her. If she’d been in his position, and he’d kissed her like that, she would have damn well had a reaction, even if it was just laughing along with the joke.

So she stayed in the War Room, hoping that he would give her something, some indication if her letter had meant anything, if his kiss in the stables had just been goodbye, if the year since their fallout had ruined everything, if, if, if.

The ifs were driving her mad.

*****

By the time dinner was called, Cullen would have eaten his armor to get out of the War Room. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk to Ali in front of the other two, but he couldn’t find a reason to get her alone. All he wanted was one single second to make sure that they were okay, that she wanted to be there, wanted him there as well. But there was work to do, so he did it, getting everything set up for the next few weeks so the Inquisition could continue their work without faltering.

True to form, Josephine had put together a sumptuous banquet, although she tried to play it down as a modest affair. Cullen immediately commandeered a tray of tiny cakes, wondering what the actual party would look like if this was meant to be a small intimate gathering. True, the Great Hall was filled with only the inner circle, but he could hear the sounds of revelry from outside as all the residents of Skyhold celebrated the victory.

He knew he should be circulating, and he vowed to do a pass through the tavern later to see his troops, but for now, all he wanted to do was hunker down at a table and watch Ali. She flitted around the room, laughing and squeezing shoulders, taking the time to connect with each of her companions. He’d always enjoyed watching her thus. It was moments like these that he could see her nobleness shine through in her bearing, and it had always provided a lovely contrast to the way she behaved when it was just the two of them in a room together, telling dirty jokes and dirtier fantasies.

But something was off tonight. There was a ghost of something behind her features, some shadow of the way she’d looked just after Adamant when she’d shut down all but completely. Cullen knew that look, knew she was still processing everything that had transpired, all the little ways her life had just changed irrevocably.

Every fiber of his being was shouting at him to go to her, to demand answers, to shout that they were in the _after, dammit_ and their duty was done. But that wasn’t fair, because the very last thing he wanted to do was to add to her burden or lay another level of worry on her heart. He couldn’t even help her with the rest of it, all the other things that he had once shouldered for her, because they weren’t even a _them_ anymore.

So instead of demanding answers, he worked his way out of the Hall to lick his wounds in peace. _Tomorrow_ , he told himself, _tomorrow I’ll ask her._

*****

Somewhere between the game course and the salad, the full weight of the day started to break through the cracks in Ali’s mind. One minute she was leaning against a trestle table, listening to Bull gossip about the latest dumbass thing Krem had done, and the next, her hands started to shake and trickles of blackness started coming in the edges of her vision.

Bull noticed immediately – observant spy that he was. Without missing a beat, he pulled Ali down across him and pressed her to the bench, urging her head between her knees. He must have given a signal too, because a moment later, Dorian plopped down on the table behind her, effectively shielding her from the rest of the room.

“I’m so sorry.” Ali wheezed as she tried to focus on a nick in the floor tiles. “I don’t know what's come over me.”

An enormous hand patted her gently on the back. “You’ve been shocky all day, Boss. Thought you knew.”

Dorian snorted and laid his own hand on her shoulder, carefully pulling her upright. “Not all of us are as emotionally detached as you, my heart. But he’s right, poppet, you’ve had a bit of a few days.”

“But… I was fine!” Ali tried to keep the whining from her voice.

“No you weren’t.” Bull pulled a flask from his belt and handed it over matter-of-factly. “We nearly died, and that takes a toll. You were just pushing through, until you couldn’t.”

“So how come you’re not all shaky and nauseous too?” Ali asked before taking a sip of the liquor, wincing at the sting of the strong Quanri spirits.

“Because I had my fist up his ass a few hours ago.” Dorian’s rebuttal was pert and prompt, and very nearly made Ali shoot the liquor straight out her nose.

“Andraste’s tits, Dorian! I can’t know things like that.” She whirled around and slapped him across the chest, knowing her cheeks were turning bright red. “Don’t you have any manners?”

Dorian smirked and tugged at her braid. “There you are, princess. I knew some vulgarity would bring you right back to me. Do you want to hear more, or would you like to tell us all about your little liaison in the stables?”

If possible, Ali’s cheeks got even hotter and she turned back to Bull for reinforcements. But the big man just looked at her calmly. “He’s right, Boss. You need to talk about this, and you can talk to us.”

The thought of talking to two of her closest friends about all her thoughts should have been appealing, but all it did was make something seize up in her chest. Talking about it would make it real, would mean that there really was a chance that Cullen didn’t want her anymore, that distant professionalism was all she was ever going to get from him. So instead of saying anything, she just shook her head and took another sip from the flask.

The two men exchanged a glance over her shoulder and Bull shrugged. “Okay then. The offer stands, should you need it. In the meantime, I think this party has just about played out. Any interest in the tavern?”

“I don’t know.” Ali whispered helplessly. Her thoughts were still in a tumble, and although her vision had cleared, her hands were still trembling.

Dorian cleared his throat before pushing her off the bench. “You know what I think the problem is? You’re a good three days away from your last bath, and no one can think when they smell as bad as you do. Why don’t you pop upstairs for a wash and a lie-down, and you can join us later.”

A bath. She could handle a bath. Mumbling a promise to see them later, she passed the flask back and headed towards her chambers.

*****

For once, Dorian was absolutely, unequivocally correct. Having a soak in the hot water was the most soothing thing Ali could imagine, and she took delight in every bit of dirt she managed to scrub off her skin. It was so delightful, in fact, that she did it twice, pulling up fresh water whenever it started to get dingy.

The tears took her by surprise. Without warning, just as she finished getting dressed, sobs bubbled up her throat and poured out in an ugly wave of emotion. It didn’t last long but they seemed to carry out the last dregs of her fear from the battle, all the worry about failure that had set in at the reopening of the Breach. When she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes, she felt lighter, felt like the battle had happened months ago, not days.

Outside, it had started to snow. Not uncommon for Skyhold, but Ali stared at the falling flakes as if seeing them for the first time. Without shirking from the cold, she stepped out on the balcony, hands outstretched. The wind bit at her skin, but she didn't mind. The low hanging clouds and swirls of snow meant that she couldn't see past the walls, but she didn't mind that either. This was her fortress now, and she had been willing to defend it with her very life. Pride welled behind her heart and she laughed with joy, lifting her face and whirling around in the spiraling flakes.

When she stopped spinning, she faced the courtyard. The tavern was still lit up, and it looked like the party was still going strong. Tiny dots of light along the battlements indicated that they still had a heavy guard tonight - Corypheus might be dead but the night could still hold enemies, and Haven had been a hard lesson in complacency. Ali knew that not every torch meant a solider - an attacking force wouldn't be able to aim that easily, and might find themselves easily staggered by the true number of their troops.

It was the sort of planning that sounded obvious, but Ali would never have thought of it herself. No, that particular bit of trickery had some straight from...Cullen. With a gulp, she finished turning and looked out towards his office. She'd done this a thousand times over the years, and knew already what she would see.

Sure enough, his little tower was lit softly - torchlight showing at the cracked door. That meant he was up still, that the troops were welcome to stop in for a bit of warmth. She could picture him clearly - head bowed over his papers, golden curls askew from a day of work. He’d be in his armor still, but his mantle might be off. His gloves would be gone too, and he’d stop after every piece of paper to crack the knuckles on his right hand.

Back in the day, when things had been right between them, she would have gone to him, brought him tea and encouraged him to go to sleep. He would have looked at her with tired eyes, but a smile would still spread across his stubbled face.

Now though... The last few days had been so strange. She and Cullen had set aside selfish things for the sake of the world, but the world was saved now. Things should have been fine, but they just weren't. They hadn't talked, really talked, in weeks, and it had been months since the Temple of Dumat. True, he'd kissed her, but he thought she was going to die. The kiss in the hall was a joke, not that far off from the way he'd kissed Dorian, once upon a time. Then he'd barely spoken to her at the dinner, escaping as soon as he could.

She should talk to him, she knew that.  Ali snugged her arms around herself, suddenly feeling the bite of the snow and the wind and a sobbing gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it… What if she went to him and he didn't want her anymore?

*****

Compassion stood in the shadows under the stairs, watching the bright colors of emotions tangle around the couple outside the tavern. He didn't understand why they were hurting, but there was an angry red throb around the Lacey prettiness of Lace's usual blue brilliance. Compassion liked his joke that Lace was lacey, and he thought Cole would have liked it too.

No, he was Cole now, Varric had said so. That was the power he got for not having a beard - his words made things true, made people think things and made things think themselves people.

Little Lacey lace dwarf didn't have a beard either, but she didn't have any powers except her eyes and heart, but that was enough to pave the way for everyone else, even if her own road wasn’t clear. He liked that he could see it so organized - he was trying to keep his head clean the way Cassandramostpious kept hers so neatly, all her thoughts in a neat little line.

Someone else was there, watching from the shadows, a man out of his place in the right place, always as usually a soft orange. But it was wrong tonight, there was a worried streak of gray along Kremtinystiches’s spine. He had trouble with him at first, he didn't match his body and that meant bad things usually. But Cullenroaringscared had explained it, when he explained how bodies come together to make new ties and new tiny bodies. It was very confusing because in the Fade, everyone’s outsides always matched their insides, but here, everyone was different inside.

There were rules, Lelianaredsong told him, and he wasn't about to cross her, not at all.

The skinny man went to the short woman and dropped to his knees in front of her. He could have listened, but he thought it might be private. He was trying to be better. But the colors weren't private, everyone has colors so he watched as her red met his gray and they blended together into dark pink and he knew that was the color of new made blood and everything would be okay there. His own heart changed a little, from worry to relief. It had been good that he refilled Lace’s drink at the right time, getting her to step out for a bit of air. Kremtailorson might have avoided the tavern tonight, but for the message that had gone to the wrong place that he’d had to deliver to the right.

He smiled. Satisfaction.

Far above his hat, the air changed when a door opened and he felt the empty space where a heart was supposed to be. That wasn't new. She's been like that for ages, but he couldn't help her before.

CompassionnowCole gripped the edge of his hat and pulled it down over his ears, blotting out the embracing couples sweet bits of nothing. He concentrated on above him, tracking the beats of a broken heart. It was confusing to feel it now. Before by the horse it had been full of light and sounds refracting through glass, and gushing emotions no longer dammed out. The wall had fallen but now it was going back up, and he could feel every brick being laid. It was supposed to be better by now, he’d thought it through and this was how the game would end. But it wasn’t, and what if he’d waited too long?

Alinorabrighthand made herself empty to be big enough for everyone but now she was woman sized again. Cullenscarredall let her because of faith in duty, but now he could ask her again. She had all the words and he had all the songs and why were there two empty hearts still pulling at his mind? If they didn't fix it soon they would fix like this, and the rest of their lives would be half hearted.

He smiled again - his jokes were getting better. He lifted his hat and made a face with crossed eyes and bared teeth. It was what Seraphinafearsnothing did when she was mad and it really did help, he found. This was stupid and he thought they might be stupid too. He wasn't supposed to go there, even if he had done already but really! How was a spirit made body supposed to relax with need like this around?

Decided, Colebecole went into the keep. If she’d forgotten the words she had, then he could give them back to her. It was clearly an _emergency._

*****

"Be brave, child, and do not be afraid of what you want.”

The words came from behind her, and Ali whirled around in a panic, barrier already blooming over her skin. Cole was crouched on the balcony across from her, balanced precariously on the railing. He looked at her with a faintly amused expression and repeated the word brave over and over, letting it roll across his tongue and out into the air.

“Maker Cole, you frightened me. What are you doing here?”

The little spirit boy screwed up his face at her and it took a second to figure that it was supposed to be a disapproving look. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“This is my room, pumpkin. Where else would I be?” Even as she said the words, she knew why he was here, what he was going to tell her. Those were her grandmother’s words, given to her in the Fade all those months ago. If Cole was repeating them now, with what she had been wondering about - well, it could that maybe she should…

He fell forward in a controlled way, landing with all his grace and slinking towards her. “Woman of blood, little Evelyn, be brave, fight against fear, fear of bright things in the dark, fear the empty inside the bottle, fear the home that can’t be made.” He stopped in front of her and raised a hand, letting it almost touch her cheek. "Have faith, little magelet."

When she didn't move, Cole cocked his head curiously, like he was listening to something very far away. "Regret brings me nothing, so I will not let it linger?"

"What?" Ali asked, knowing she'd heard those words before, but not placing them.

The spirit-boy huffed and pulled his eyebrows down in a strange sort of grimace. He raised his other hand and pushed against Ali's chest, knocking her backwards as he spoke. “Hey pretty lass.”

The words slammed into her, nearly knocking her backwards again with their weight. That was what Cullen had said to her, that night on the roof in Orlais, that night when she got to live in her good dreams for a magic second. That was the best night of her life, bandits and all, because she’d had Cullen underneath her, holding her steady, making her laugh, telling her without words that he loved her.

Something that had been under pressure snapped inside her chest and she nearly screamed in frustration at herself. What was she _doing_ here? She was better than this, _braver_ than this. There wasn’t even anything to be afraid of! She was hiding in her room like a child, hiding from Cullen! But Corypheus was dead and her duty was done and she didn’t have to hide _anything_ from him anymore.

Swiftly, Ali hugged Cole and turned to race down her stairs. She didn’t want to see anyone who might delay her, so she slipped out through the basement. Her feet slapped on the stone as she ran, and her hand made a thunking sound when she shoved out through the kitchen door.

She let out a yelp when she stepped out into the courtyard – in her haste to leave her room, she’d neglected to get shoes and the snow was starting to pile up in the courtyard. She hopped from one foot to another, then gave it up and started running across the yard, aiming for the stairs by the stables, noting idly that somehow, all the people in the yard had their backs to her, keeping her sprint unnoticed.

As she ran, she took stock of the rest of herself, wondering if it was worth going back to change. It didn’t matter, she decided. Bits of her hair had escaped from her twin braids, and the dress was an old favorite – one of the ones Cassandra had given her ages ago. As Ali reached the top of the stairs, she made a conscious decision not to worry about it. If Cullen wanted her, he’d want her like this. And if he didn’t, then all the pretty dresses in the world wouldn’t matter.

Courage screwed to the sticking place, Ali raised her hand to knock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohmigod, you guys, its time for the talk.


	74. Chapter 74

Hiding in his office had been a terrible idea. After fleeing the Great Hall, all Cullen had wanted was to get away from everything and everyone, to find solitude for his thoughts, to nurse his wounds in private. The problem with that, as he discovered shortly after collapsing behind his desk, was that once he was alone, he actually had to think all the thoughts and look at all his wounds.

He tried to bury himself in work – the defeat of Corypheus meant that patrols needed to be sent out, messengers needed to be guarded and Skyhold prepared for the party. But as he shuffled his papers into various piles, he found himself unable to care if his soldiers wore their leather armor or their plate. All his attention was across Skyhold on the woman he loved who might or might not love him too.

_Oh sod it_. _I’m being craven._

It had been hours, and nothing was getting better. Sighing, Cullen pushed back from his desk and ran his fingers through his hair to get it back into place. It might not be a good time to talk to Ali about their personal business, but he could damn well be there for her in a professional capacity. Tonight, he decided, that would be enough.

Just as he stood, a knock sounded at his door. Immediately, his heart started to beat faster at the possibility that _she_ might have come to _him._

“Enter!” He called out as he stood up behind his desk.

The door creaked open and Blackwall peered around it. “Commander, do you have a minute?”

Cullen cursed himself for a besotted fool as he tamped down disappointment at his visitor. He should have expected that Thom would be coming to see him soon – the excitement of the night hadn’t quite stamped out the news that Josephine was expecting a baby, and he’d known she would tell Thom about it after dinner. He had a pretty good inkling of what this visit was about, and he was genuinely welcoming of it.

“I have as much time as you need. Please, come in.” He motioned with one hand while using the other to dig a bottle out of the drawer. With any luck, this conversation would end in a toast, and it would deserve the good stuff.

Almost shyly, Blackwall came in and shut the door behind him. He had something clenched in his fist, and as he stepped towards the desk, he extended his hand to show Cullen. It was a ring, glittering in his palm much like Ali’s ring had glittered in Josephine’s grip the day before. Cullen swallowed hard, then up at the bearded man – his own emotional state had nothing to do with this conversation, and he needed to put it aside. Grinning, he batted his eyes playfully. “For me serrah? I’d no idea you felt that way.”

Some of the nervousness vanished from Blackwall’s eyes and he snorted in laughter at the unexpected jest. “Well, ours is a forbidden love, aye? But in all seriousness, I did want to ask you for your thoughts.”

Cullen sobered and stood up straight. “On marrying Josephine? You did get her up the duff, so I bloody well hope you’re going to marry her.”

“Well yes, but I…” Thom looked down at the ring, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. “I started making this months ago, as soon as I was pardoned. I’ve wanted to marry her since the first time I saw her, but I couldn’t ask until all this was done. Had to prove myself, you know.”

A deep well of sympathy rose up in Cullen’s chest at the thought that this noble man was still trying to atone for his sins of years past. It was something that he knew a little about himself, just as he knew the pain and self-doubt that would rise up and hamstring him in spite of his best efforts at finding redemption. Rounding the desk, he reached for the ring. “Let’s see it then.”

It was a simple thing, made of Stormheart and wood, beautifully merged together in a flowing pattern. There were no gems at all, but faint scrapings on the inside indicated at least some runic magic. Surprised, he asked, “You made this?”

Blackwall nodded, looking shy again. “Aye. Solas gave me a bit of heartwood, and I’ve had the rock since Crestwood. Dagna helped with the inscriptions - for health, since my lady gets the headaches. Do you think she’ll like it?”

Cullen was familiar with the migraines that occasionally crippled Josephine after a day of work, and he was touched that Thom had thought to account for them. He handed the ring back and reached for the bottle on his desk. “It’s perfect. You two deserve each other, and may the Maker bestow happiness on your family.”

Blackwall took the offered liquor, but didn’t drink. “Will you – will you stand up with me, man? If she accepts?”

The lump came back into Cullen’s throat, but this time it wasn’t due to worry. The sheer fact that he was being asked to bestow such an honor, after all his years without friends or family… it nearly took his breath away. He nodded once, forcing out a harsh, “Of course.”

They each took a long drink from the bottle, both feeling a toast was unnecessary frippery at this point. Cullen recorked it, Blackwall nodded his head and headed back for the door. As he reached for the latch, he paused and turned around. “Did you talk to the Inquisitor yet?”

He gritted his teeth. He knew these questions would start coming up soon, but he’d rather hoped that the other man would be understanding enough not to pry. “No. I might, but not yet. Why?” He couldn’t believe he was asking Blackwall to betray her confidences, but how could he _not_?

“Oh.” Scratching at his beard, he narrowed his eyes, seemingly coming to a decision. “You know, I think she’s confused about you.” He said this straight, as neutrally as if he was giving a report on the weather.

“So what should I do?” Cullen tried to match his tone, but there was a waver in his voice that he couldn’t erase.

“Talk to her. Tell her how you feel. Ask her what she wants.”

“Do you have any idea how hard that is to ask?”

Blackwall looked down at the ring in his hand, then raised his eyebrows incredulously. “You mean do I know what it’s like to ask the woman you love if she loves you the same? Why no, Commander, I have no idea.”

Suddenly, the mood was broken, and Cullen found himself wanting to laugh again. So he did, and mimed a kick at the other man. “Fine then, Serrah. You go find your woman and I’ll find mine.”

Giving an exaggerated bow, Blackwall pushed back against the door. Cullen turned away, trying to organize his thoughts into a plan of how exactly one goes to tell a woman that she’s everything to him. Flowers, maybe. Should he get flowers?   
  
“PISS AND SPITE!”

Cullen’s head snapped up at the cursing, and he whirled around, knowing that voice. Sure enough, Ali hopped through the door a moment later, clearly favoring the foot that had evidently just been slammed with the heavy door. She was shaking her head, and although her expression was cross, there was laugher behind her words. “Dammit Blackwall!”

“Bollocks, I’m sorry.” The knight grasped her by the elbows and helped her hobble inside. “I didn’t think anyone was out there.”

“Nay, it’s my fault for skulking.” She waved off the apology and looked between the two men quickly. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, of course not. The Commander just gave me his blessing to, um…” He trailed off, cheeks turning a bit red.

“Marry Josephine and make a million more babies? Good for you.” Ali laughed and moved away from the door. “You should ask her in the garden. The Arbor Blessing is blooming tonight and everything smells lovely. Ask Kieran for some magelights and you’ll be in business.”

Cullen nodded at Blackwall and waved towards the door. He seemed to get the message that he should leave them alone, so he leaned in and kissed Ali on the cheek before opening the door. (With much less force than before, it should be noted.)

As soon as the doorway was clear, Cullen slammed it shut and bolted it for good measure. Turning, he scanned Ali quickly, checking for injury and relieved to find that she was stifling a laugh. “You okay, Lady?”

She nodded and hopped towards him, leaning on his shoulder. “Fine. Did he get your blessing?”

“Of course. I assume you gave yours already?”

“Aye, weeks ago, to the both of them.”

He helped her across the room and set her on his desk, lifting up her leg by her ankle to check her foot. There was a cut across her stocking, but no blood. “Doesn’t look broken, but you’ll probably bruise.”

She shrugged, seeming unconcerned. “With all the healing juju Vivienne poured into me earlier, I doubt I’ll even have that. It more shocked me than anything.”

Cullen nodded and ran his fingers over the injured part before snatching his fingers back. “Maker, your feet are freezing! Where are your shoes?”

“Oh.” Ali looked faintly embarrassed and pulled her foot from his grasp. “In my room, I suppose.”

All at once the reality of the situation settled in on his shoulders and he sank into his chair. He’d been about to go find her, but she’d gotten here first. They’d been chatting like it was… _before,_ but it wasn’t and he still didn’t know where they stood. Settling his hands on his thighs, he reminded himself to proceed carefully. “What can I do for you, Inquisitor?”

“I came to apologize for kissing you in the Hall.” She rushed the words out, like she’d been waiting to say them since she came through the door. Cullen’s heart sank like a stone at the confirmation of his worst fears, but he forced himself to keep a light tone.

“Fair enough. Consider it forgiven and forgotten too.” He reached for a paper on his desk, cursing the fact that his fingers were trembling slightly. Still, he had to keep up appearances – he had to keep from breaking until she left his office.

But Ali halted him before he managed to get very far, sliding herself sideways until she was perched on his desk directly in front of his knees.

“Honey stop, that came out wrong.” She pulled her legs up, crossing them under her and tucking her skirts securely around her feet. Task accomplished, Ali gazed at him levelly, lip caught in her teeth as she evaluated him silently.

After a long minute, he’d had enough. “How should it have come out? It sounded pretty clear to me.”

She exhaled, a long slow sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of her ribs. He knew that sound, knew the look on her face meant that she was steeling herself for something she didn’t want to say. He’d seen it in Haven at the War Table, again when she’d caught him out about the lyrium. Heart forgotten, he flexed his muscles, clasped his fingers around his chair and generally tried to prepare for whatever fresh hell she was going to unleash.

“The first time I thought of having sex with you was at the War Table in Haven.” Her earlier urgency was gone, and her voice had an abstract, toneless quality. He flicked his eyes up in surprise at her words, but she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t looking anywhere except into the past.

“I woke up and tried to get my bearings, tried to understand what had happened to me. I didn’t know much, just that there had been an explosion, and somehow I was responsible and being held by a group I had never heard of. Then I got to the meeting and met the lot of you, and I remember thinking _Alicat, you’ve really landed in it this time._ ”

Now she did look up at him, straightening her spine as she did so. “I thought I might need protection, and I knew one way I could get it.”

It hit him all at once what her meaning was. He’d seen it, over and over, how a mage’s favors could be bartered with guards in shiny armor to guarantee safety, or at least an illusion of it. Not all Templars and Mages fell into such arrangements – his torture had left him unwilling to even contemplate such a thing. Ali had never mentioned having a protector, but then, he’d never asked, never even considered that he might have been… Bile rose in his throat at the thought that this was where her true feelings lay. “Like in your Circle?”

Her eyebrows pulled together briefly, but it was only a second before her expression cleared back into her noble mask. “Back in Ostwick, I never had to. Being a Trevelyan gave me some protections, and being the best cook in the Circle didn’t hurt either – I used food where others had to use themselves. But I knew the way of it, and I thought…”

“Yes?” He forced the word out through a dry mouth. He had no idea which way the wind was blowing, and her damnably blank face wasn’t helping him at all.

“I spent most of that first meeting sizing you all up, trying to decide what to do. Cassandra was out immediately – she’d have no interest in anything I could offer. Josephine was too much of a romantic for my needs, and Leliana, well, I figured she’d knife me in the back even if I was in her bed at the time.”

Cullen had to laugh at that, dark as the joke was. “And me?”

“I thought I understood you. Big Templar, used to giving orders, all brawn, no brains.” Ali shifted, but she kept her eyes on him, the faint trace of laugher showing in the corners. “I thought maybe I could hook you, play poor-little-lost-mage-girl and convince you to run away with me. If you’d helped me with a boat, I could have slipped away and made it to Orzamaar, and I knew Bragi would come through there sooner or later.”

Vaguely, Cullen realized he should take offense to this, but he couldn’t find it in himself. What she was saying made perfect sense – it was a typical Ali reaction, all practicality and politics. “Why didn’t you?”

She shrugged and lifted her left hand. “Didn’t need to, in the end. By the time I got back from the Hinterlands, I’d realized that I had a lot more bargaining power than I knew and I felt a little safer. But I think that was why I disliked you so at first, because I thought I had your measure, and I didn’t like that man. I was wrong, clearly, and was truly happy to learn I was mistaken.”

“You weren’t the only one who got it wrong.” He smiled up at her, remembering how they’d clashed at first.

She smiled back, but it was small and nervous. Whatever she’d come here for, she wasn’t done. “I know. And then you were my friend, and then…”

“Yes?” He prompted again.

Another deep breath and she looked away again. “The first time I wanted to kiss you was in the Chantry, when the world was falling down around us. We were friends by then, and I trusted you when you said you’d get them out. You were holding on to me and I thought…”

“Yes?” He felt vaguely asinine repeating the same word over and over, but he didn’t risk derailing her monologue. A feeling was forming in his gut, the sense that _this_ was what they had been building to over all these long years, that maybe the Maker was smiling down on him at last, that maybe it was too late for the flowers.

Sighing, she scooted backwards onto the desk and lifted a knee, wrapping her arms around it and peering at him over the top. “When Haven was falling and I went out to face Corypheus, I knew he would kill me. Like, knew it down into my bones, and I made a choice to go back out there. But just before I did, I thought that you might kiss me and thought it would be a nice thing to happen before I died.”

“Oh, Ali.” He started to rise but she shook her head and stretched out her hand.

“No, you should hear this. Even after I made it out from under the mountain, I really thought that I was going to die in the snow. I had laid down. I was just… done, and I was going to stay down, and never get back again.”

She trailed off, eyes blank as she stared off into the past. Catching herself, she gave a little shake and refocused on him. “But you found me, and kept me safe all night, and I recovered, and kept fighting. And even though I kept winning, and kept getting stronger, in the back of my mind, I always remembered what had happened that night in Haven, and I always assumed that I would die at his hands in the end. Even when I rode out a few days ago, if you’d asked me to put money on it, I would have said that I was never coming back.”

“Honey.” Cullen’s eyes felt tight and now he did reach for her, pulling her feet into his lap and resting his face on her shins. “You never told me.”

A hand pressed down lightly on top of his head, almost like a benediction. Her voice was soft. “I didn’t think of it much. It was just a fact that existed, like how I hate beets and know how to juggle.”

“You can juggle?” Cullen raised his head, seizing on the distraction. Ali loomed above him, the half light of his candles sending shadows dancing across her serene face.

“Sure. I’ll teach you sometime.” He nearly missed the easy way she spoke of a future where the two of them still spoke, but he didn’t miss the way the light caught her face. Her lips twisted up in a half-smile, but it faded as quickly as it had come, morphing into a look of such nervous anticipation that Cullen grasped her legs even tighter.

But she didn’t let him. Pulling her legs free, she pushed further back on the desk and crossed her arms defensively. “Cassandra was the one who found me this time, her and Thom. I didn’t think Haven was a safe place to stay the night, so they found me on the road.” Ali cleared her throat and lifted her chin, back to hiding behind blankness. “She asked me if I wanted to go, told me my work was done if I wished it to be so.”

“Oh.” Cullen felt like he’d been hit in the gut, but he tried desperately to keep his calm. If Ali had come to his office this night to say goodbye, then he wouldn’t give her any reason to regret her choice. This was why he’d pulled away as he had, this was the choice he’d always hoped that she would have, and it wasn’t fair of him to begrudge her the decisions she wanted to make. “So you’re leaving then?”

“What?” She snapped her head down in shock. “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Gesturing weakly, she pointed to his office, then to him. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“So you’re staying then?” Now he was confused, and he rather thought she might be too.

Taking a deep breath, Ali pressed her hands into her hair and down the length of her braids. “Let me try this again. Cassandra offered me a choice, and I made one. Corypheus may be done, but I don’t think the Inquisition is. I know I wanted to leave Skyhold at the first, but that was years ago, and I’m not that girl anymore. This is work worth doing, and I want to do it. So I chose.”

Something unclenched in Cullen’s chest, but he still felt grief rise in his throat. “So you came back, but it wasn’t for me?” He heard himself saying the words and could scarcely believe them. Immediately he wished for a way to cram them back into his mouth, to undo exposing himself so vulnerably. Since that was impossible, he closed his eyes against the humiliation of it all.

“No, but…”

“But what?” A tiny piercing ray of home burst through the fog of his humiliation, and he risked cracking an eyelid open.

“But I stood for you.” Her voice was a breathy whisper. “The dragon nearly had me, and I went down killing him. I was lying on the ground, face in the dust, and I wasn’t getting up again. Death was at my heels, and for the life of me, I couldn’t think of reason to keep fighting. But then I thought of you, and how badly I missed you, and how very much I didn’t want our story to end with a letter in a box. And then I found the strength to stand, because you kept me safe while I learned to be strong, and I got up and I killed the motherfucker because I wanted to get home, except you might be my home, and… and…”

Somewhere through her little speech, Cullen thought he might black out. He tried to take shallow breaths, so he wouldn’t accidentally miss any of the wonderful, perfect words spilling out of her mouth. It was only when she cut herself off that he realized he was staring at her blankly, and she well could think all her attentions were unwarranted that he took action, reaching out abruptly to lace his fingers through hers. He knew he should say something dashing and romantic, but all he managed to put together through his whirl of thoughts was “But you were going to make me a Bann.”

“So?” Ali used her free hand to rub at her eyes. “Why shouldn’t you get the same choice I had? And I don’t care whether you’re a commoner or noble or criminal. Unconditional, remember?”

That was the word he’d used her quarters, the only way he could confess his love without ruining them. If she was using that word now, then why had she started the conversation with an apology? “But you regret kissing me?”

“Of course I do.” A corner of her mouth rolled up into a smirk, and he suddenly knew they were past the worst of it, that she had no more dark secrets to lay at his feet tonight. “It was terribly rude of me. Mother was always very clear on that point – Trevelyans don’t lick people, especially not on the face.”

“Was she _really?”_ The surprise of that revelation briefly kicked him out of his tumultuous thoughts, and he had a quick thought that he really hoped to the meet the matriarch of the Trevelyan clan at some point.

“Of course. After Nessa was born, there was a whole thing about trying to lick the baby, and Mama had to be very firm with the lot of us.” She slid off the desk which put her neatly in front of him, toes nearly on top of his boots. “There are rules about kisses, just like everything else. It was an ill-mannered jest on my part, and I hope you allow me to make it up to you.”

Worry and hope warred in his chest as he stared at her. Could she possibly mean what he thought she did? “Make it up to me?”

Ali inclined her head graciously and tugged on his hand, pulling him to his feet. He couldn’t read anything in her face but that didn’t matter. His heart was pounding fit to burst, and he knew his fingers were trembling in hers. She didn’t let go of him, but she did lift her other hand, carefully placing it over the collar of his armor. “I thought I might do it again. But properly this time.”

Now all the blood did rush out of his head, dropping south and warming an entirely different part of his body. But Cullen barely noticed, being far more preoccupied by the way Ali’s lips were parting as she tilted her head a little to side while she leaned in….

The first brush of her lips nearly undid him right there, but this wasn’t the gentle kiss he’d given her by the stables. She pressed her lips to his with the faintest sense of urgency and he leaned into her without thinking. The hand on his collar slid around his neck to nestle in his hair, and he used the opening to snake his arm around her waist and hold her upright.

Cullen tried to stand straight, to let her take the lead, but when a tiny moan escaped her, he gave in and leaned forward, kissing her back as urgently as she kissed him. She took advantage of his opened lips, slipping her tongue out to meet his, and joy erupted through his whole body. He felt connected, from her mouth on his to where she still held his hand, and he had to stop, just for a moment, just to breathe.

When he pulled back, he saw that her lips and gone plump and she was breathing heavily. Her dark eyelashes fluttered and she looked up at him, eyes shining with a spark he’d thought was gone forever.

“Well.” Cullen cleared his throat and dropped his hand, gripping the edge of the desk for support. “That was very… proper.”

“Yes.” Ali’s voice was low, with a bit of rasp that went straight to his heart. Her pupils were blown wide, and Cullen thought that he’d never seen anything quite so erotic in his whole sorry life as the way she looked standing primly in front of him.

Suddenly she seemed more essential than breathing, and Cullen didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her by the back of her hair and tilted her head, reveling in her breathy gasp. He lowered his mouth to hers again, and this time, he held back nothing.

All those months of waiting, wishing for more, wanting her, all of it came out in his kiss. It was all tongue and teeth – nothing at all proper about this kiss. He kept one hand tight in her hair and the other slid around her waist, pulling her forward as he tilted her back towards the desk. She had her hands on him immediately, around his back and under his mantle. She scrabbled at his armored back before hooking her fingers underneath it, pulling him down on top of her.

He couldn’t get enough of her. Something feral was unfolding inside him, and he needed more – more skin, more touch, more _of her_. Leaving her mouth, he kissed down her cheek, nibbling along her throat and down to her shoulder. He’d been this way before, lots of times, but never like this. It had never been her under him, no limits and no damned rules.

She must have felt the same, because she writhed underneath him, pulling him closer. Her hands were on his armor buckles now, and she was cursing them in between ragged breaths. One of them came lose and she moved on to the next. For his part, Cullen kept moving downwards, hooking the neckline of her dress and pulling it down, vaguely noticing that he’d ripped it but really not caring.

Ali tugged at his breastplate and he broke away for a moment, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side. His armor, polished and cleaned every night, which had never before gone anywhere but his body or a stand, clanged to the floor behind them and he was happy to hear it, because it meant there was one less thing between them now.

He barely had time to register that before she had him by the shirt, hauling him down on top of her and back to her lips. Everything in the world had distilled down to this, just this. All he could feel was skin, all he heard were moans and all he could taste was her.

When he reached a hand up to cradle her breast, Ali jolted and gripped him tight, fingers digging into his sides so hard as to bruise. He broke away from her mouth again, wanting to finally _finally_ get his mouth there.

Which he did, and it was even better than he’d ever dreamed of. Not only was she as lush and pert as he’d ever hoped, he’d never imagined that she would have such a reaction. Her long groan of _Cul—len_ made him feel ten feet tall, and she started to quiver in a way the meant she was well pleased by what he was doing.

He slid his other hand out to brace himself, and it took a second to register that there was something wet on his fingers. He wanted to ignore it, but what if Ali was bleeding? Cullen raised his head and glanced at his fingers, noting that they were all stained black. Ink?

With a curse, Cullen hauled Ali back into a sitting position. She looked a little dazed, but followed his eyeline to where a puddle of ink from the upset inkwell was creeping across the desk, right to where she’d been lying a moment before.

“Oh shit. Your papers.” She was absolutely a picture, hair mussed and cheeks flushed. The torn bodice of her dress gaped open, and the edges of her breasts threatened to derail his thoughts entirely.

“Fuck the papers.” He wiped his fingers on his pants, using the opportunity to readjust himself strategically. He was absolutely pounding, as hard as he’d ever been, and he tried to talk himself down from saying _damn the ink_ and throwing her back down for a solid tupping. But no, this was Alinora Trevelyan, finally maybe his, and she deserved better than an old wooden desk in a drafty tower. “But I don’t think we should…

The vibrancy of her face faded at once, and he could see the exact moment when she misunderstood him. Maker, she thought he was rejecting her!

Panicked, he caught her hands and kissed her again, reining himself into gentleness. When he pulled back, she looked hopeful again. He thought of how brave she’d been in coming to him tonight, and decided to be brave as well. If he asked this and she said yes, everything would change forever. “Ali, would… would you like to maybe go to bed? My bed, I mean?

Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked over her shoulder to the ladder that lead to his bedchamber. Turning back, he was overjoyed to see a bright, brilliant smile unfurl across her perfect face. She ran a hand over his jaw and cupped his face gently, before saying simply, “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to cut it off there, but this chapter was already super long. 
> 
> We're coming up on the end of the story, and I'm not planning a sequel to it. That being said, if there are any particular scenes or drabbles you want to see, leave a prompt in the comments.


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In defense of my two month hiatus from this story, I have nothing but boring-ass excuses. So instead, lets go with the idea that I actually died, and you are now getting updates from ZombieRogue!
> 
> Is that cool with everybody?

Kissing Cullen was like waking up.

In a week filled with terrifying things, nothing had scared Alinora so much as sitting on Cullen’s desk and starting to talk. She’d come to his office with no pretty words already formed, no real plan at all except to try to bridge the gap they’d forced the other to build. So she had opened her mouth and told him all the things she’d kept secret, shared her deepest fear, and revealed how low she’d been willing to sink to protect herself at the start of the Inquisition. And Cullen, understanding and empathetic as always, had understood, hadn’t for a second held her failings against her.

His acceptance had washed over her, and the peace she’d found in her rooms came into sharper focus. When she stood in front of him and offered a _proper_ kiss, she thought this was as centered and perfect as anyone had ever felt in the whole of the world.

But she realized her mistake when his fingers twined into her hair as he deepened the kiss. Whatever she’d felt a moment before was a pale shadow of what this was like, wrapped up in his arms. Right then, she understood what toll her adventures had taken on her body, because she felt them all vanish. Who cared about the Fade, about Darkspawn, about Mages or Templars or anything else? Who could care about anything when there was someone that tasted this sweet standing in front of her?

She was so intensely aware of all of his body, the warmth of him surrounding her in a cocoon of lust and man that stirred all the parts of her she’d been denying. Still, it wasn’t enough and she didn’t pause an instant before using all her hard-earned martial knowledge to get his breastplate off as quickly as she possibly could. He helped by tossing it behind him with a _clang_ and she nearly screamed with joy, overwhelmed and giddy with anticipation.

When he pressed her backwards on the desk, the urge to laugh faded into the storm of lust that was taking over her body. The tower could have come down around them and she wouldn’t have cared. But then he stopped, and she thought her heart would stop too. There was no way, _no way_ , that he was going to slow this down, not when everything she ever wanted was so close to within her grasp. Of course, it was just his chivalry rearing up, and she was as charmed as she was annoyed by the interruption.

*****

 “Ali, would… would you like to maybe go to bed? My bed, I mean?” Cullen face is inches from hers. His eyelids are heavy with lust, but she can see the bunching in his jaw that means he is grinding his teeth, afraid she will balk, because this is her man who will never ask her to give anything she doesn’t want to.

_YES_ , she almost shouts, but she forces herself to calm. She’s waited all her life for this moment, and it is worth taking an extra second to savor it. Turning her head, Ali looks towards the ladder, following it up to the trace of moonlight that filtered through the floor. Deciding the moment is officially savored, she turns back to him, making no effort to hide the joy that bursts across her face. “Yes.”

As soon as the word slips from her mouth, Cullen pulls her off the desk and back against his chest. Her feet land on top of his boots and she sighs against his mouth, remembering how he’d done this same thing on the road, in that perfect pond. Just as before, she wraps her arms over his shoulders, locking them around his neck and breathing in the smell that means safety, means home, means love.

But that was then, when they still had rules, and now they have none, so Ali doesn’t worry about _how far is too far._ She steps back out of the circle of his arms, eyes locked on his. Without pausing to think about it, she pulls at the ties on the side of her dress. Once they are released, she rolls her shoulders and lets the entire garment slip down her body with a gentle thump, leaving her standing bare in her stockings.

Cullen has seen her naked before, but there’s a special kind of bravery that it takes to stand in front of him without flinching or hiding. She hadn’t bothered with smallclothes after her bath, and she has a sudden flash of anger at Sera and her pranks. Every bad thing she’s ever thought about herself flits though her mind as his gaze coasts downwards, his eyes widening the further he goes. When he meets her gaze again, he gulps heavily, throat bobbing as he licks his lips. “Maker’s Breath.”

Relief whooshes out of her, and he cocks an eyebrow before bearing into her space and snugging an arm around her back, pressing himself against her belly, letting her feel the hardness that is there because of _her_. His eyes search hers, but she can’t imagine what he’s trying to see there. “You’re perfect, Inquisitor. You always have been.”

There’s that feeling again, the overwhelming sense of _rightness_ that’s been building since she came to his office. Along with that, another feeling is building in her body - although this one is centered quite a bit lower than her heart. From the feel of him against her, he’s matching her feeling for feeling. So she doesn’t hesitate to reach for him, fisting her hands in his shirt and trying to pull him in and pull it off all at the same time.

Somehow, this is the most indestructible piece of clothing she’s ever encountered, and she lets out a sound without meaning to. It isn’t quite a groan, but it is just short of a growl. Whatever it is, it makes Cullen take pity on her and reach up to pull off his shirt, tugging it over his head in a manner that does all kinds of interesting things to the muscles in his stomach.

But she doesn’t get to appreciate it, because he’s suddenly bearing her backwards, pressing her back against his ladder and running his knuckles up her bare sides. He stops just short of her breasts, spanning her ribs with those big hands. A wicked smile graces his face as he leans in to whisper in her ear, the low rumble of his voice going straight through her bones. “Do you know how often I’ve pictured you just like this? Every time I saw you knitting on those incomprehensible socks, every tiny stitch made me want to strip you down, to see you in just skin and stockings.”

He releases her for a moment, leaning back and fisting his hands in his own hair, once again casting his eyes down her body. Ali watches, fascinated by the way his muscles pull under his skin, every part of him chiseled and perfect. She didn't try to hide her gaze, and Cullen notices her scrutiny, but he doesn’t make a move to hide himself. Instead, he moves his hands around her and grips the ladder, flexing his biceps even more.

Her mouth is practically watering at the sight of him, and she suddenly realizes that this is _okay_ , that she can look at him as long as she wants, touch him however she pleases. Biting her lip at the thought, Ali trails her hand along his stomach, delighting in the feel of warm skin over hard muscle. As she scratches past his nipple, he lets out a low hiss and arches his back, hands still locked on the ladder. She smiles at his self-control and wonders if it would be possible to get him to lose it entirely.

Noting her expression, Cullen smirks at her. "Something you like, my lady?"

"Mmm." Abandoning her game, she hooks a finger in his trousers and tugs him towards her. He catches her meaning immediately and lowers his head to her neck, sucking lightly. "I was trying to figure out if I had enough time to make you beg."

"Consider me beggared." His words are muffled by her skin as he kisses his way down her neck, but Ali hears the longing in them. "I didn’t think we’d ever make it here."

“Cullen…” His name comes out as a gasp, and although his movements south are certainly intriguing, she can’t let that go without a response. Gently pressing him back, she lets her hands slide over his collarbones and up to frame his face. “When I met Ameridan he said… he said that people like us need to take our moments of happiness when we can find them.” Pausing to trace the line of his jaw, she brushes her thumb over his scar. “And I want all my moments to be with you. For always.”

His eyelids flicker closed and he leans in to press his lips roughly against her temple. “Agreed. For always.”

She can hear the roughness in his voice, and she is so overwhelmed with love for him that tears threaten to form behind her eyes. She glances up to blink them away, looking up the expanse of the ladder to the waiting bedroom. But her legs are jelly and her heart is pounding, and the top floor seems a million miles away. _Much too far to go._

Wrapping her hands around his biceps, she sidesteps away from the ladder, grinning even wider than before. “Then what are we waiting for?”

In all their dozens and dozens of interludes, Cullen has always been reserved, and careful, so careful. It’s how he lives his whole life, always aware of his strength, of his limits, of his responsibilities. Ali had wondered what he would be like off the leash, if she would someday unlock all the power he keeps locked under his will. She saw hints of it when they fought the bandits, and a little more during their duel. So it’s the very best kind of shock when her Commander grabs her hips with a grip that’s just a little too tight and pushes her back towards the desk where they started this whole thing.

“No more waiting?” He breaks away from her mouth just long enough to growl the question in a voice gone suddenly hoarse.

Ali nods back, stammering out an affirmation before nipping at his lip. She reaches between them to tear at his trousers, ripping the lacings in her haste to get them off. The very second that she gets them free, she snakes a hand down, going lower and wrapping her hand around him, sighing at the long-lost feeling of him, hot and heavy in her hand.

Cullen groans against her mouth, saying a word so filthy that Ali is sure she must have misheard. But she can’t linger on that, because now his hands are wrapping around her thighs and she’s tipping backwards onto the desk, sending another batch of papers scattering off the floor. Cullen stands at the end of the desk, so handsome she can hardly stand it, every bit of him focused on her sprawl across the desk.

“Definitely no waiting.” She gasps the words out, feeling like she’s going to crawl out of her own skin if he goes a single second more without touching her. She lashes out with a foot, trying to snare him around the hips, but he catches her knee with one strong hand.

All he does is rub the inside of her knee with his calloused thumb, but even that is enough to send a shiver rolling down her spine. Above her, he cocks his head and does it again. “Maybe a little waiting,” Cullen muses, and she could kill him now, she really could. He must see it in her face, because he moves almost faster than she can track. Before she realizes what’s happening, he dives forwards, hooking one thigh over each of his broad shoulders and getting an iron grip on her hips.

The last time he did this, he started gracefully, almost carefully. This time, he doesn’t hesitate. Burying his face in her core, his tongue is there instantly, making her quake with pleasure. She isn’t prepared for the feeling, and her hands fly to his hair, trying to ground herself in her own body, to keep from flying right out into the Fade.

His mouth is relentless, and he gives her no quarter. Within moments, the spiraling need that’s been growing in her belly tightens, and her hips tip up wantonly. “Please,” she gasps out, heedless of the whining note in her voice.

Cullen lifts his head, a hand sliding in to replace the tongue he’s now using to lick his lips. His fingers move with long earned practice, hitting all the pieces of her that she’d almost forgotten he knows perfectly. “Are you begging, Lady Inquisitor?”

Tugging on his hair, she pulls him up her body, inch by inch. “Stop teasing me, Commander.”

Abandoning his task, he climbs over her, bracing his forearms on either side of her head. An expression of mock solemnity is across his face, and he scowls at her. “I’ll never stop teasing you.” His head dips, but he stops short of her lips.

Ali realizes his concern and huffs a dismissal - honestly, this is no time for manners. She surges upwards and kisses him full on the mouth, heedless of the traces of herself she can taste on his tongue. Cullen doesn’t hesitate now, and leans into her fully. She can feel him against her, skin on skin, and she spreads wider to cradle his hips between her thighs.

Skimming his fingers over her shoulder, he doesn’t stop kissing her as he diverts to her breast, tweaking her nipple briefly before skating over her belly, then lower.  A sudden pressure between her legs makes her gasp, and she tilts her hips again, welcoming him home.

At long last, he slides in, slow and true. It’s almost unbelievable, that after all these years and miles, after all their games and sacrifices, that she’s finally here, under him, around him. She realizes that her eyes are clenched shut and she forces them open, looking up at the face she knows so well.

He’s staring down at her with an expression of indescribable awe, eyes wide and open. Every feeling she has is reflected back at her as he works into her with something close to reverence. She can feel the moment when he is fully seated within her, and the sheer fullness of the feeling threatens to overwhelm her poor, overworked heart.

Some of that feeling must be reflected on her face, because he stills and leans in, brushing her nose with his own. “Alinora Trevelyan,” he murmurs against her cheek. “It’s just me.”

Those words cut straight to the core of her and she is suddenly _desperate_ , absolutely churning with anticipation to finish what they started, all those years ago in a forest. She arches against him, heels skidding up his legs to press into his thighs. “Cullen Rutherford,” she answers back, “I’m yours. Please.”

Cullen growls against her mouth and yanks her hands up, pressing them against the desk in one of his own. He captures her lips in a searing kiss before pulling back and whispering, "As my lady wishes." Ali isn't sure exactly what he plans, but she shakes with pleasure when he slides into her in one smooth stroke, using his arm under her back to hold her in place as he withdraws and slams into her again.

She cries out at the feel of him, the sheer joy of having him over her and inside her merging with the slightest bit of pain as he nips his way down her neck. The feeling of him is almost too much and she gasps his name into the night air. In response, he lifts his head and gives her a wolfish smile as he snakes a hand between them, planting a thumb over their joining and making her shudder in ecstasy.

"Fuck, Cullen, you... I... fuck... love." Ali is sure there is something important she needs to tell him, but damned if she can remember it through the mounting pleasure of his lips and hands and cock. She tries to push it back, tries to wait him out but it’s all too much. With a high keening moan she collapses into her release, curling up under him and locking her legs around his back.

Even as she comes, he keeps up his relentless pace, hips snapping against hers in a frantic rhythm. It pushes her further and her whole world condenses down into this panting spiral of need and satisfaction. Just when she thinks she can't take it anymore, that one more round will send her scattering into a million pieces, he stiffens above her with his own release, shouting her name as he presses his face against her neck.

It takes a few seconds before she can catch a breath and she stares at the ceiling, savoring the boneless contentment that has conquered her body. She adds up all the trials she faced, all the worries and stress, the soul-deep fears that have dogged her entire life and haunted her dreams. If this moment is her reward, Ali decides, it’s a bargain she would strike every time.

Running a hand down Cullen’s bare back, she scratches his skin lightly with her fingernails, eliciting something close to a rumbling purr. She smiles lazily at the sound, then laughs as a thought occurs to her. “You know, it’s a good thing we waited.”

He makes a questioning noise and she lets her hand roam lower, grabbing a handful of his bum as she explains. “If that had been an option before, I would never have left Skyhold. Corypheus would definitely have beaten us, and I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Mmph, true.” Cullen’s voice is muffled from where he’s still buried in her shoulder, but he hitches her more closely under him. “That was just… prime.”

Under him, she presses her own face into the side of his head and kisses the shell of his ear, content to lay there as long as she can. The weight of him across her chest seems to be the final thing that she didn’t know she’d been missing.  Until it isn’t.

“Cullen, I love you, but you’re squishing me.”

He jerks his head up with a snap, but doesn’t pause in rolling off the desk, pulling her with him. In a flash, he’s sitting in his chair with her spread across his lap. Ali goes to snuggle in, but is stopped by a new tension in his muscles that hadn’t been there a moment before. She leans back to look him in the eye, alarmed to discover that his jaw is set and he is wearing a carefully blank expression.

She is about to ask him what could possibly be the matter, but is stilled by his hand. Very carefully, he traces along her cheekbone with the tip of his finger. He inhales once, quite deeply, before asking, “Will you say it again?”

_Say what again?_ Ali runs through the last few minutes in her mind before realization strikes and a new confusion sets in. “That I love you? Didn’t I say that before?”

He shakes his head, still looking a little dazed. “Say it again, please.”

Ali grins at him, not out of laughter, but just from happiness. She’d meant to tell him so when she came to his office, but if she’d missed saying it then, she would make up for it by saying it now, as often as she can get away with. “I love you. I love you. I’m in love with you. Cullen Rutherford, as your lady, I love you. I have never loved anything half as much as I love you. I’m in love with my best friend, who is you, and I lov—“

Her recitation is cut off by the sudden press of his lips, and she leans into his kiss, sliding her hands up into his hair as she slides up his lap. He doesn’t hesitate at all, just wraps her braids around his hands and uses them to slant her mouth against his.

“Say it again.” He whispers against her again when they stop to breathe.

“I love you.” She whispers back, feeling his smile more than seeing it. “Is there a requisite number of repetitions you’d like to requisition?”

He huffs gently, then gives her a sucking kiss under her chin. “No. I just liked hearing you say it and got a bit greedy.”

She leans back with a teasing smirk. “Now who’s spoiled, serrah? Here’s me, willing to tell you a dozen times a day, and you’ve yet to say it once.”

His eyes widen comically – apparently he hadn’t realized that he’d also forgotten to say it earlier. “I love you, Magelet. I didn’t mean –“

“I know.” She pecks him on the corner of his mouth, right below his scar. “I was just being a prat. But it is nice to hear after all this time.”

He shifts underneath her, and she suddenly realizes that he is still wearing his pants, and they’d twisted around to effectively trap his legs underneath her. She slides off his lap to try to straighten them, but loses her composure entirely when she looks all the way down.

“You’re wearing your boots!” She tries to stop her giggles, but can’t quite manage it. Instead, she makes a high-pitched noise, rather like a teapot. Cullen’s face gets faintly red, and he gives her a mock-scowl as he stands and refastens his trousers.

For some reason, this strikes Ali as the funniest thing to have happened in a long time, and she laughs even harder at his reaction. “Soldiers do it with their boots on!” she manages to get out between hiccups, and a second later, he is laughing too, leaning up against the desk beside her. And just like that, everything is normal again, laugher fading back into the friendship they’d always had, the friendship that is still there, now enriched by their new love.

“Where are you supposed to be right now?” Cullen slants his eyes over as he reaches up to start tidying her braids.

“In the tavern. I promised Dorian I’d come by after my bath. You?”

“The same. I just wish we had more time." His gaze shifts, moving over her shoulder towards the ladder to his chamber. “I’ve been waiting years for you to be naked in my bed.”

A thought floats through Ali's mind, and is almost lost in the sheer pleasure of his hands working through her hair. She snatches it and considers, letting the gleam of an idea chase away some of her sated befuddlement. Stepping away from the desk, she turns around to try to spot any of their clothing. "Does it have to be your bed?"

Cullen's eyes brighten with mirth. "Why, did you want to try for Cassandra’s bed again? I’m game."

Snatching his shirt from the bench where it landed, she turns back to him. "No honey, what I mean is, all we need is a bed, and even that is negotiable." Seeing that he still wasn't getting it, she holds the cloth over her bare breasts to try to get him to focus. "Look, Josie is planning that party for weeks from now, but no one will be here more than a few days early. If you wanted, we could just... go." Suddenly afraid he’ll think her foolish, she averts her eyes and mumbles. "Run the fuck away, at least for a little while and find somewhere..."

She trails off as Cullen crosses to her in three long strides. She almost squeals at his expression - in all their time together, she's never seen him look so... hopeful. His eyes have a touch of wildness, and the dimple in his cheek is on full display as he leans in to kiss her soundly. When he pulls back, he laughs, long and loud. "You're brilliant, did you know that? Where should we go?"

Ali knows she is grinning like a loon, but can’t bring herself to stop. "I don't care. We can figure it out on the road. Can we go now?"

Stepping back, he pulls his shirt over his head. "Yes. Or rather, in a few hours. You need to go to the tavern or everyone will know something is up. I’ll get Cass to cover for me, and we can sneak out in the morning."

Maker bless this man and his quick decision making. “We’ll get caught if we try to sneak out – the scouts are too good. But I think the Chargers are riding out in the morning – I can leave with them. Are you okay if I send you off with Cole to investigate some pretense? He’ll want to help.”

“Sure.” As he agrees, he bends over to retrieve her dress from the ground and Ali takes a beat to admire the really excellent view. He hands over her clothing with a slight grimace. “I’m afraid it’s a bit worse for the wear.”

Looking at the way the whole front bodice was torn open, Ali has to agree. “No worries love – I have a spare outfit tucked away in the stables. Meet you in the tavern?”

"Absolutely." He abandons his own dressing and catches her around the waist, leaning in for a long, lush kiss. "I love you. And you're brilliant. And I love you, my lady.”


End file.
